Tad turned to Nelly and Victor. ‘Will you please leave this to me? I’ll try to get the sweets back to where they belong. I’m sure Mrs Prichard will help. I know the police should be involved, but if you will let me try to deal with it, I promise you that if I fail I’ll go to the authorities myself.’
‘I don’t want the kid to grow up with a police record,’ Victor said gruffly. ‘I blame you, not her!’ he added angrily.
‘I agree,’ Tad replied. ‘Thank you, both of you.’ He picked up the collection of sweets, biscuits and chocolate and hesitantly handed them to Nelly. ‘Do you think you could – Perhaps if Amy got them all back she wouldn’t…’
Nelly lifted the edges of her apron and Tad dropped the items in.
‘She’s an understanding sort, Amy. I reckon she’ll give you a bit of time to sort things out. Only a little while though, she ain’t soft!’ said Nelly grimly. She walked away and Victor followed her, the dogs dancing around them; they could smell the chocolate and were hoping for a share. They strolled past the trees and when they reached Nelly’s cottage, she asked, ‘Come in fer a cuppa why don’t yer?’
‘Thanks, I’d enjoy that. Then I’ll go and tell Amy that her thief is caught.’
‘I’ll come with yer. I think she’d like to know about Margaret’s worries, don’t you?’
‘The thought of Amy marrying Billie Brown is worrying me too, Nelly,’ Victor admitted quietly. ‘She’d be marrying for all the wrong reasons.’
* * *
Billie had been a regular suitor since the embarrassment of falling asleep in the cinema. He had avoided such places since, preferring to invite her and Margaret to the farm or for rides out in the Land Rover to places of interest and beauty. Mary would occasionally go with them and she would always pack a fine luncheon basket so all Amy had to do was dress herself and the two children and go.
Amy found she looked forward to the outings more and more. The freedom of not having to plan for the whole of Sunday from the moment that Margaret came home from church was a joy, the baby seemed to like the movement of the car and the fresh air made them all sleep contentedly. Only Margaret seemed less than content.
Even when Oliver came to keep her company, the day seemed long for her. She would sit quietly and look at the waterfalls or the mountains or wander along the beaches, deserted now the summer visitors had left, and pick desultorily at the food Mary had supplied and was obviously relieved when it became time to return home.
As soon as they were inside and the roar of the Land Rover had faded away, she would go in to her piano and play for as long as it took Amy to get the baby settled and put Margaret’s night-clothes to warm by the fire. Then she would climb on her mother’s lap while Amy tried to discuss the day before seeing her tucked into bed.
When Nelly and Victor came that evening to tell her that Dawn had been caught and her father informed, Nelly stayed on after Victor had left. She told Amy about Dawn’s fears, fears that had come from Margaret. For Amy it explained much.
‘I knew there was something, Nelly. I’ve tried to persuade her to talk but she insisted nothing was wrong. I really thought we had settled the worries about school. All the time she’s been thinking I wanted to send her away!’ She looked towards the stairs, wanting to run up and reassure the child straight away. ‘Thank you, Nelly. Now I know what’s troubling her I’ll make sure she understands how I feel about losing her.’
‘You going to marry Billie, then?’ Nelly asked in her forthright way. ‘Think that’s fer the best, do yer?’
‘I’d be cheating on him if I did, Nelly,’ Amy admitted. ‘He knows this and still wants to marry me. I’ve been completely honest with him about how I feel about Victor.’
‘So?’
‘So, I still don’t know. It would be goodbye, Victor. I wouldn’t cheat on him that way. But I don’t know if I could accept not seeing him again.’ She sighed and her long diamante earrings sparkled as she shook her blonde head. ‘Why do I always fall for the wrong one, Nelly? Can you tell me that?’
‘P’r’aps it’s the right one but only the wrong time. Could you wait? You’re ’eading fer forty. It’s sometimes ’ard fer people to deliberately change their lives and take another into it when you’re gettin’ on an’ stuck in yer ways.’
‘You managed!’ Amy laughed. ‘And you said goodbye to forty a long time ago!’
‘Ah, but me an’ George is different. Like a pair of kids we are, Amy, and none of that sex nonsense to upset things. No, like an egg without salt I am, when George ain’t there an’ that’s a fact.’
Nelly left soon after that and Amy crept upstairs to see if Margaret was sleeping. She found her daughter propped up in bed with an Enid Blyton adventure story against her raised knees.
‘Can’t you sleep, love?’ Amy asked. ‘Something bothering you?’
‘No, Mam. I just want to finish this story.’
‘Have you thought any more about the school idea?’ Again Amy knew she was choosing the wrong time, just before Margaret slept, but urgency made her refuse to wait.
‘I’ll go if you want me to.’
‘Oh.’
‘Aren’t you pleased?’
‘Well, no, I’m not. Margaret, love, I think it’s time for honesty. I hoped you would say you prefer to stay here with me. I won’t stand in your way if you are really keen to go, but I’d be devastated to lose you. There would be holidays, I know that, and the terms aren’t very long.’
‘You mean you don’t want me to go? I thought you wanted more time, like with Uncle Victor, or if you married Uncle Billie.’
‘No love. I don’t want you to go away. And as for Billie, there’s nothing decided about that. He wants us to be his family and go and live with him at the farm. Would you like that?’
‘Yes, I think so, but we’d still have this house, wouldn’t we? And we could come back sometimes. Freddie would like the farm I think, as long as you let him plan a garden for you. There’s no flowers there at the moment and he’d want us to have flowers.’
‘Let’s say that if, and only if, mind, if I should consider marrying Uncle Billie and taking us to live at the farm, we’d all discuss it, you and Freddie and me, before anything was decided. It’s like everything, Margaret, love. We are a family and we do what’s best for us all, not just me, or even you, much as I love you. Right?’
She bent to kiss Margaret and tuck her in. The book lay forgotten on the counterpane and as the beautiful brown eyes closed, Amy placed it on the bedside table and snapped off the light. She looked back at the dark shadow of her daughter’s long red hair spread across the pillow and hoped her words had helped and not muddled her more than ever.
It was ten o’clock when there was a knock at the door. She opened it to Tad, and a neatly dressed Dawn, standing hand in hand at the door. Tad carried a torch with which he had been lighting their way. He flicked it off and asked politely if they might come in.
‘Dawn has something to say to you, Mrs Prichard.’ He turned to Dawn, who stared boldly at Amy and said briefly, ‘Sorry.’
‘That, Dawn,’ Amy said firmly, ‘is not enough!’ The girl looked surprised and looked at her father.
‘I think you should explain to Mrs Prichard what you did and promise never to touch anything that doesn’t belong to you again,’ Tad coaxed.
Amy led them from the hall into the living room where the fire was dying and the lights were low.
‘I’m tired, it’s late. If you haven’t thought about what you did sufficiently to be able to tell me you really regret what you did, Dawn Simmons, then I would rather wait until you have.’ She glared at the little girl. ‘You have caused me a lot of trouble beside making my delivery boy believe he was suspected of dishonesty. Now, what have you to say to that?’
‘I’m sorry.’
This time the girl’s lips quivered slightly and Amy went on, ‘Sorry isn’t enough, Dawn. Do you know how badly you have let your father down?’
‘Yes, and I won’t do it aga
in, I promise.’ Dawn’s face began to crumple and Amy forced herself to ignore the tears brimming and beginning to course down the thin cheeks.
‘I think you should do something to make up to me for all the inconvenience, don’t you? I’ve lost customers over this.’
The tears stopped, the eyes became bright with curiosity. This was something unexpected.
‘I want you to come tomorrow after school and sweep my yard for me. You’ll have to do it properly, mind, and move all the boxes that get thrown out during the day. I want to see it cleaner than it’s ever been before. Right?’
Tad began to protest but Amy silenced him with a glare.
‘All right, Dawn? Tomorrow, or I’ll inform the police.’
‘Can I go home first to change my clothes?’
‘Yes, but I’ll be timing you so don’t go wandering off. I mean what I say.’
Tad hesitated as if wanting to protest but afraid of something worse than the punishment Amy had chosen. Amy saw them out and, in a better mood, prepared herself for bed.
* * *
Margaret seemed more relaxed the following morning and talked happily of staying put and only visiting the farm for occasional treats. Amy was relieved that she was free from the fear of being ‘sent away’ but felt that life was closing in on her again. The option of marrying Billie seemed to be fading. There were her own doubts and now the relief clearly felt by Margaret at not having to leave their home.
Philosophically, she decided to let life continue for a few weeks and see if something happened to alter things without her assistance. Life was never static, and perhaps Margaret would come to think of living on a farm an exciting idea. She would discuss it all with Freddie on his next leave, if she could get him away from Sheila for long enough!
Children weren’t your own for long, she thought sadly. When they were babies the future seemed to stretch endlessly ahead with teething, and napkins, then going to school, joining the Brownies or the Cubs, plus the thousand and one everyday things to deal with besides. Before you realised it they were young adults making their own decisions and leaving you behind like a discarded fashion. She dressed the baby and, tucking her cosily into her pram, set off for the shop, with Margaret skipping happily beside her.
It was pleasant walking in the crisp, clean early morning air. Around them the distant hills were still green and with the sheep dotted on the sides of them a pleasing sight. Margaret trod on the crisp brown leaves and laughed at the crackling they made. Amy looked at the rather bedraggled remnants of the summer flowers in the gardens they passed and made a mental note of some she would like Freddie to add to hers.
Margaret stopped skipping and jumping about and came to walk by her side. ‘Mam, if we did go to live with Uncle Billie, we wouldn’t see Uncle Victor, would we? I like him better than Uncle Billie really.’
So do I love, Amy wanted to say, so do I! She busied herself tucking in Sian’s blankets and did not trust herself to reply.
* * *
Phil-the-Post called cheerfully from the shop door. ‘Letter here from your Freddie. Shall I leave it or deliver it at the house?’
‘Give it to me and quick about it!’ Amy laughed. She stuffed it into her apron pocket and continued serving. ‘And if you’re hoping for a cup of tea you’re unlucky this morning,’ she added.
‘Right then. Two next time, is it?’
Amy laughingly agreed.
‘She’s got one as well, mind,’ Phil added, poking a thumb in the direction of the council houses. Then, seeing Mavis behind the counter, he added, ‘Your daughter, Mrs Powell, she’s got a letter from him as well.’ He shuffled out past the waiting customers.
It spoilt the pleasure of the letter slightly but when she found a moment free and opened it, she forgot about being one of two and read it aloud.
‘Freddie’s coming for the weekend.’ That at least meant he was staying with her and not Sheila, she thought with relief. ‘He’s got leave before he goes to Devon, and asks me to invite Sheila to tea on Sunday.’
‘If she’s free, that is,’ Mavis said, a hint of satisfaction on her face. ‘Found herself a nice boyfriend, she has. Knows all about what happened too, so there’s nothing underhand.’
‘Good. I’m glad she’s getting out and about.’ She had heard that the romance with the young man from town was off, but declined to mention it.
‘He’s an accountant,’ Mavis went on. This was news to Amy but she was lost in Freddie’s letter and hardly acknowledged the remark.
When Victor came to the house a few days later he found her polishing and arranging the few late flowers she had found in the garden and rearranging the furniture. Her face was flushed and glowing with her efforts and, as she opened the door to him, her fair hair slightly fuller than usual, the earrings she wore sparkling like her smile of welcome. Victor could not hold back words of admiration.
‘Amy, love, you are lovely.’ He stepped inside and took her into his arms and held her close. She was warm and smelt of perfume and polish. He trembled with longing as she reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
‘Freddie’s coming home,’ she said. ‘I’ve been cleaning and I must look a mess.’
‘If this is a mess,’ he laughed, holding her away from him and gazing at her, ‘I’d love to see you when you’re dressed up smart!’
He went into the living room and sat on a chair, pulling her to sit on his lap.
‘Prue is coming too,’ Amy said. ‘And I suppose I’ll have Sheila for most of the time. I’d better start some cooking.’
‘I’ll help.’
Together they made a pile of bake stones and a Teisen Lap, a delicious fruit cake that was just out of the oven when Margaret came home. Victor brushed the flour from his clothes and smiled at Margaret.
‘And there’s no starting them till tomorrow,’ he threatened. ‘For your brother, they are.’
‘Just one, Mam?’ Margaret pleaded. ‘And Uncle Victor, can you stay and talk for a moment? I want to tell you about the quiz show.’
‘I’ve seen notices about it. But what’s it in aid of, do you know?’ He knew but didn’t want to spoil the telling for her.
‘Well,’ Margaret began in her precise way, ‘they’re having a Quiz Show in The Drovers, which means I can’t go, of course. And it will be two teams, the Farmers and the Village.’
‘Who’s running it?’ Amy asked. ‘If it’s Bert Roberts, I’m going somewhere else that night!’
Her groan was echoed by Victor when Margaret said, ‘Mr Roberts.’ She laughed at the faces they pulled. ‘He’s in one of the teams too. There’s Mr Roberts, our headmaster and Uncle Johnny Cartwright. Then on the other side there’s Mr Sidney Davies, Nelly’s husband, George, and – guess who?’
‘Not Uncle Billie?’ Amy said.
‘Yes, Uncle Billie too. I wish I could go. Will you go, Mam?’
Amy looked at Victor. ‘I might, love, if I can find someone who isn’t going to mind you and Sian.’
Victor had intended to do some painting for Amy on Sunday morning, but now he thought it best he did not. With Freddie there, Amy would prefer he stayed away. He explained this as she saw him out.
‘But I’ll call in,’ he said. ‘It won’t seem odd to call and say hello to Freddie, will it?’
‘Of course, come,’ Amy said. ‘He’d like to see you, I’m sure. And so would I, love.’ she whispered.
Victor called goodbye to Margaret then went slowly home to a wife who never spoke to him and sons who seemed indifferent to his unhappiness. There was only Delina who, while not supporting him, at least showed some understanding of his miserable situation.
Remembering how uneasy Prue felt in Freddie’s presence, although not understanding why, Amy telephoned to the hospital and asked that Prue be informed that Freddie would be there at the weekend. Half an hour later, she was told that her sister would not be coming home as planned. She felt a bit mean, spoiling Prue’s break from the hospital, but could not
deny a sense of relief that there would be one fewer to worry about. It was Freddie she wanted to spend the time with, not her sister, who was becoming increasingly difficult as she regained her health.
Chapter Twenty One
On Saturday, Sheila woke with a headache and felt the beginnings of a cold. She hated having a cold, which frequently ended with her having an ugly cold-sore on her lip. The day did not improve.
As first sales, she always dealt with the first customer of the day, and the superstition that if she failed on that the day would be an unsuccessful one always made her nervous.
She knew she pressed too hard, aware of the tension of the manageress in her little cash desk near the door. When their first customer walked in her she insisted on her looking at just one more dress and then another until she was practically following the poor woman out through the door and almost certainly ensuring that she would never step foot inside the shop again! She glared back at the manageress who was showing her disapproval in a stare that made her wriggle in her chair.
‘What has got into you this morning, Mrs Davies?’ she asked. ‘I think the third sales would have done better.’
‘I have a cold,’ Sheila excused, ‘my head is pounding.’
‘Really.’ There was disbelief on the woman’s face as she stepped forward to open the door for another interested customer.
‘Madam,’ she smiled encouragingly. ‘May we help you?’
She looked at the second sales girl and, when the woman explained her wants, beckoned the girl forward.
Irritably, Sheila stepped back and began to straighten already straight sleeves on a row of coats. It was the third time that week she had been reprimanded, and in front of the other girls too. It was inconsiderate of the manageress to make her look foolish in front of girls she had to instruct and correct. Even the alterations girl was chuckling behind her sewing machine. If only she could leave, get away from these people with their small-minded spite.
Sheila’s day was further spoilt by seeing her parents outside the shop at lunchtime. She could hardly ignore them but at once made it clear that she had very little time to talk.
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