A Girl Called Hope

by A Girl Called Hope (retail) (epub)

  ‘Oh, a few stamps, I have letters to write.’ Marjorie seemed vague, unlike her usual loud-spoken pompous self.

  Stella lifted the sheet of stamps and asked, ‘How many?’

  ‘I’ve had this letter from Phillip, you remember my son?’

  ‘Of course I remember him, Marjorie! You daft or something? Seen him grown from a noisy little scrap in a pram to a man going off to war, haven’t I?’

  ‘Sorry, I’m a bit…’

  ‘Look, Colin is out, up the allotment digging over ready for some Brussels sprouts plants he’s been given. Come through and have a cup of tea.’

  Without protest, Marjorie followed her into the over-full room behind the shop, where three cats curled up near a blazing fire and Scamp, the little terrier, raised a sleepy eye and wagged his tail before going back to sleep. Shirts hung from a clothes rack and a railway jacket hung on the back of a chair. Stella threw it carelessly aside and invited Marjorie to sit.

  ‘Sulking, he is, because Colin went without him,’ Stella said pointing a thumb at the dog. She dealt with the kettle that simmered on the black-leaded hob and made tea. Her movements were fast as she reached cups, saucers and plates from the dresser, cake from a cupboard and the tea cosy from under Scamp’s head, muttering about how she’d kill him if he didn’t stop stealing it. She put the tea cosy over the pot, hoping Marjorie hadn’t noticed where it had come from. ‘Now then, this letter from your Phillip?’

  ‘He suggests that I – that is, Freddy and I – look after little David, and give Hope a chance to get a proper job. What d’you think?’

  ‘Forget it, is what I think! I can’t imagine Hope ever agreeing to such an idea. That child is her life!’

  ‘She isn’t a fit mother, you know.’

  ‘What a lot of old lol! A happier little boy I’ve never seen. Copes wonderful your Hope does. You ought to be proud of her. And as for a proper job, what d’you think she’s doing now? Making dresses for half the town she is, and she’s taken on an assistant, trainee or whatever. Geoff Tanner’s niece. Wonderful clever from all I hear. Worrying for nothing you are. Leave ’em be.’

  Marjorie stood to leave. As always, when a response was not what she expected or hoped for she wanted to walk away.

  Stella stood too, blocked her way and handed her a cup and saucer. ‘Add your own sugar, not too much mind, I’m a bit short at the moment. Used some making blackberry jam, fool that I am, and it’s only eight ounces a week we get. Terrible hard to manage on a pound with my Colin sneaking extra when I’m not looking.’

  Marjorie was forced to sit back down. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I don’t need advice, I know what’s best for my own.’

  ‘Do you indeed.’

  ‘I know David isn’t getting the right training.’

  ‘How old is he?’

  ‘Almost three.’

  ‘Two then. Not three. Always one to push it to win an argument you are, Marjorie Murton! Two years old is all he is and you’re worried about Hope not training him? Being happy and knowing he’s loved, that’s all he needs when he’s only two. God ’elp us, Marjorie, what sort of childhood did your boys have if you think a two-year-old needs “training”?’ She regretted the words the moment they were spoken. Poor woman didn’t want to be told she’d got it wrong, with one son killed during the war, one avoiding her by moving away and Ralph choosing to kill himself rather than go on living. ‘Sorry, Marjorie. As usual I open my mouth too quick. I’m sure you’d look after your Davy well – a wonderful grandmother you’ll be. But don’t think your Hope will let him go, because she won’t.’

  ‘She isn’t my Hope!’

  ‘She’s doing very well by all accounts. She’s that clever with her needle, and she designs and makes clothes for all manner of people, rich, poor, tall, short, slender as a bean pole and those who can’t get a tent to fit over their hips.’ she added in an effort to raise a smile. ‘Leave ’em be and let them know you’re there if they need help. It’s best.’

  ‘Thank you for the tea.’ Marjorie went to the door leading to the shop and Stella stopped her again.

  ‘What else did that Phillip of yours say? You haven’t told me all of it. Don’t need to be a detective to know that.’

  ‘He says he can’t come home while Hope is still living here. He’s too upset about Ralph.’

  ‘And you believe him?’

  ‘Of course. He’s my son.’ Marjorie glared at her, daring her to disagree.

  Stella made a deprecating sound between a hmm and a groan, and said, ‘Don’t forget your stamps, Marjorie, and you haven’t paid, remember.’

  ‘Freddy will pick them up tomorrow.’

  When Stella had locked the shop securely and began to wash the dishes she found a lot of undissolved sugar in Marjorie’s cup. Knowing she was short of sugar, Marjorie had made sure to take more than she needed. What is it about the woman that makes her so full of spite, Stella wondered, as she scraped the waste into the rubbish bin. From all she remembered of Phillip, he’d inherited his mother’s lack of compassion, and the thought of him being too distressed to face poor Hope was nothing more than a sad joke.

  Marjorie walked home, a sickly feeling in her stomach not completely due to her over-sweet tea. A growing need to take her grandson away from Hope was crowding out other concerns and the thought excited and frightened her. With her three sons gone and no one to fill the large house, which she had imagined being crowded with grandchildren and their friends one day, she had to do something. Freddy wouldn’t help, he was ridiculously fond of Hope, but perhaps if she could persuade Phillip to come home she would have an ally, someone who would sympathize with what she wanted to do. After all, she would be a better person to bring up little David than the woman who had caused the death of his father.

  *

  The object of her half-thought-out plan was in the garden of Badgers Brook. Davy and Joyce were playing skittles, but he was laughing too much to concentrate and Joyce was adding to the fun by missing the skittles every time she tried.

  ‘Time to go in now, Davy,’ Joyce said, and with a groan he agreeably collected the game and put it into its box. When she went through the door, leaving him to follow, she saw Geoff and Peter. They had been watching the game.

  ‘Never play for Glamorgan, will he?’ Joyce said. ‘I’ve never known such a boy for giggling.’

  She went to wash her hands and Geoff watched the way Peter was looking at Hope and Davy. ‘I’d have loved a family, Peter,’ he said softly.

  ‘Why didn’t you remarry when you lost your wife? Wealthy businessman, not bad looking, what happened?’

  ‘I had my chances but I let them go. I stayed to revive the business Dad had let slide. I spent too much on that, then looking after Dad. It’s true what they say about all work and no play making Jack a dull boy, you know. Then one day I realized I’d left it too late, I’d lost touch with people my own age. Most were married and I was left high and dry. Be warned, Peter. Don’t make the same mistake as me. Don’t let life pass you by.’ He gestured with a tilt of his head towards Hope, who was setting out glasses for the fizzy drinks she had bought from the Corona delivery man.

  ‘No chance there,’ Peter whispered. ‘I’ve got nothing to offer. I live in a room in Lena Parry’s house and rent a stable and storeroom. When Dad sold our house and remarried I just took the first place I could find and I’ve never had the money to improve things.’

  ‘Two people pulling together can work miracles, believe me.’

  ‘Besides, there’s never been anyone but Ralph for Hope.’

  ‘But he isn’t here, is he? Anyone can see how you feel about her. And I don’t think she’s going to live with sad memories for ever. She’s already very fond of you. Sow the seeds and give it time,’ Geoff said, nodding wisely. ‘Just give it a little time. Not too long mind, time races past much too fast. Believe it and learn from my mistakes.’

  Peter stepped forward and took the tray of glasses and bo
ttles. ‘Here, let me do that, Hope, it’s too heavy for a slip of a thing like you.’ Behind him he heard Geoff give a muffled laugh.

  *

  Phillip wrote two more letters. In one he advised Hope to get away while there was time. She read it and found it alarming but obscure. What was he saying, that she would be safer out of Cwm Derw? Safer from what, or whom? Marjorie was a bitter and difficult woman but she wouldn’t harm her or Davy. She showed it to Peter, who said Phillip must want her gone for reasons of his own, but what the reasons were he couldn’t think. ‘Just don’t do anything Marjorie could criticize you for. And remember,’ he said, taking her hand in both of his, ‘I’m here whenever you need a friend.’

  Phillip’s second letter was to his mother. He told her how desperately he wanted to come home, how much he longed to see her and his father, but repeated that he couldn’t come home while Hope was still in the village, he would be far too upset. Sometimes he thought he was over-reacting but then he thought of a messy, dribbling child following him, expecting to be hugged and calling him Uncle Phillip, and his determination was strengthened anew.

  Five

  Freddy was on the bridge from where his son had fallen. It was raining and, with the day still dark and the chill in the air, the weather matched his melancholy thoughts. He stood there for a while, rain dripping from the brim of his trilby, the water dampening his feet and occasionally running like an icy river down his neck, and daydreamed of it all being a mistake, a dream from which he would awaken.

  How could Ralph be dead? He was just a boy. A young man who had survived his short months in the army without even the slightest injury. It was easy to understand Marjorie’s bitterness, but impossible to explain her resentment of Hope, who was being so brave, and her indifference to young Davy.

  ‘I saw you go past and guessed you’d be here,’ a voice said, and Betty Connors came up and belatedly sheltered him beneath her large umbrella. ‘Come back with me and have a hot drink, or Marjorie won’t be the only one complaining of a cold.’

  He turned and smiled at her, kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘Thanks, Betty.’ He glanced once more at the track below them then turned away, tucking her arm in his companionably. ‘I don’t know why I come here. It isn’t any comfort. It’s more like enveloping myself in renewed pain.’

  ‘It’s the place where he said goodbye to you all; perhaps you hope for an echo, to hear him call to you.’

  ‘You sound fanciful this morning!’

  He was more cheerful when they entered the Ship and Compass and he saw a fire blazing in the room behind the bar, and a tray set for tea. The toasting fork was at the ready and the bread was sliced. ‘You were sure you’d find me,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Oh, anyone would have done.’ she said airily. ‘If not you then I was bound to meet some other idle wanderer in need of sustenance.’ She reached for the teapot and took it to the simmering kettle and handed him the toasting fork.

  Although the brief visit was a comfort, Freddy was seriously worried about Marjorie. She rarely left the house. He had coaxed and pleaded but apart from her occasional visit to the post office, where she always arrived late and sometimes stayed for a cup of tea with Stella, she saw no one and was increasingly afraid of meeting anyone. Now, when a cold had developed into a cough and she complained of a pain deep in her chest, she refused to allow Freddy to call the doctor.

  ‘Come on, Marjorie, this is getting silly,’ he said when he reached home to find her lying on the couch. ‘Ralph died in the most awful way, but life has to go on for the rest of us. He would expect you to hold up your head and not show such defeat. He was ill, the courts agreed that he was ill. He was in despair at the thought of living the rest of his life in a wheelchair. He would never have left us if he hadn’t been ill. He loved us and wouldn’t want us to destroy our lives, even though he chose to take his own.’

  ‘People blame me, I know they do.’

  ‘The doctor won’t. Please let me call him.’

  ‘No. I’ll be fine in a day or so. It’s nothing more than a cold. Just write to Phillip, persuade him to come home. That will be better than anything the doctor can do.’

  He didn’t tell her that he’d written more than a dozen times and had no response.

  *

  ‘But, Phillip,’ Connie said in exasperation, ‘you have to at least reply. Your father’s writing, begging you to go home, telling you your mother’s ill. Don’t you care?’

  ‘I can’t do anything. They’ve lived in Cwm— in that town all their lives, they’ll have all the help they need. I don’t want to go sick visiting. Why should I?’

  ‘Because she’s your mother? Isn’t that sufficient reason?’

  He looked away from her angry eyes.

  ‘Because deep down, you love her? Or is love something you can’t feel?’

  ‘I love you, Connie. I’d never want to leave you.’

  ‘Then let’s go and see your parents and tell them that. Tell them we’re together for always and that we’re buying a property and running a bed and breakfast, working together, and invite them to our wedding.’ She was watching him as she spoke the words he clearly didn’t want to hear. ‘Phillip?’ she coaxed.

  ‘It sounds wonderful, Connie darling, but it’s too soon. I thought we’d stay at the school for another year, then, if we’re still sure, we’ll think about it.‘

  ‘Let’s give it six months, shall we? And in that six months we can both make sure it’s what we want. I don’t intend to carry you,’ she said, kissing him to ease the sting from her words. ‘I don’t want to take it on and find myself doing all the work, especially if we have a child, do I? But if we’re both sure that you and I can work together, then I know we’ll make it a success.’

  Phillip made an excuse to get out of the house. If he stayed he was afraid he’d be sick. What had he done, talking about loving for ever. He had to get away. But where? To his mother? Out of the frying pan into the fire that would be. But he had to get away from Connie and her crazy dream. A future of hard, boring work, being nice to people he was certain to despise. Guests who would treat them like servants. That life was definitely not for him!

  *

  Freddy went to see Hope and this time it wasn’t to work in her garden.

  ‘Marjorie’s ill and I can’t persuade her to see the doctor,’ he said as soon as he walked through the door. ‘Will you come and talk to her? I know she isn’t the easiest of people,’ he said quickly when she began to refuse. ‘She’s so depressed and I don’t want this cough to take a hold. She doesn’t seem to be in a frame of mind to fight it. She hardly goes out now, and a long illness would make her a complete recluse. No one would bother to call and ask how she is, because she has refused to see anyone who tried. Ever since Ralph…’ his voice faded. It was the longest speech she had ever heard from him.

  ‘Very well, I’ll go, but I won’t take Davy.’

  ‘But she’d love to see him,’ he protested.

  ‘If she’s as ill as you say, I can’t risk him catching it, can I?’

  ‘Shall I stay here with him?’

  ‘That would be best.’

  He gave her a key, knowing Marjorie was unlikely to open the door to her. Then she frowned and said, ‘No, Father-in-law, I think it’s best if you come with me. I might need help if she has to take medicine. Kitty will look after Davy for an hour.’

  When she walked into the living room of Ty Mawr, she was shocked to see how ill Marjorie had become. She lay on the couch, untidily dressed, covered with an eiderdown. Her face looked wasted and lined. Her colour was high and it was clear she was running a temperature. Hope’s anger toward the woman faded. Compassion overcame her dislike. She saw an unhappy, sick woman who needed help, and she knew she was the one to give it. She ran towards her and at once pulled pillows up to make Marjorie more comfortable, and, for once, Marjorie didn’t object. After making her a drink and standing until she finished it, she slipped out of the house
and telephoned the doctor.

  She needed to find proper bedding and at first Marjorie reverted to her usual disagreeable self and stopped her, holding on to the eiderdown and glaring angrily at her.

  ‘You can protest all you like, Mother-in-law, but I’m going to freshen you up and make you more comfortable. If you refuse to help it will take a little longer, but I will do it.’

  Marjorie hardly said a word but her eyes, red rimmed and angry, followed her daughter-in-law constantly. She allowed Hope to wash her and brush her unwashed hair, remake the temporary bed with a blanket brought from the spare room, but although she must have felt a little better for her ministrations, she continued to watch her with silent dislike.

  The doctor came within half an hour and Hope had a quick word before showing him to where his patient lay. ‘I can’t look after her here, I have work I must do, but if you could persuade her to come and stay with me I think it would be a very good idea. We need to get her out of this house which she’s making into a prison.’

  The doctor examined Marjorie and advised her to get to bed and stay there. ‘You need constant attendance,’ he said in a deeply serious tone.

  ‘I can’t stay in bed. How ridiculous to suggest it! Freddy won’t be able to cope and there’s no one else to help us,’ she said, her eyes daring Hope to disagree. ‘No one at all.’

  ‘I can’t stay here indefinitely, Doctor,’ Hope said. ‘But if she can be moved to Badgers Brook I can look after her there.’

  ‘No,’ Marjorie panted, perspiration running down her face. ‘I won’t enter that house.’

  ‘Then I won’t be responsible for what happens,’ the doctor replied calmly, sharing a conspiratorial glance with the anxious Hope. ‘If you stay with your daughter-in-law, and I arrange for a nurse to call, then you’ll be home in a week or so, none the worst for this little setback.’