A Girl Called Hope

  Freddy listened and said nothing. Whenever he tried to make Phillip face up to his weaknesses, Marjorie defended him. When would the boy accept that he was chasing a dream that had died years before, and find some way to earn his living honourably?

  ‘I hope Connie got back all right.’ he said, secretly hoping she wouldn’t be there waiting for him. ‘She’s a decent girl and she deserves a lot of kindness in return for hers to you.’

  ‘Oh stop it, Freddy. You don’t know how she’s used him.’

  Freddy walked from the room, muttering half to himself, ‘Oh, Phillip, when are you going to grow up?’

  He was startled when he called in to the Ship and Compass to see people huddled together whispering, only to fall silent when he approached. It didn’t take long for him to discover that the latest rumours were about Hope. The story that she had caused Ralph’s first suicide attempt, which she had insisted was an accident, by her ‘goings on’ with Peter Bevan was all around the town.

  He stood up, demanded silence and refuted the accusations, but feared that the damage was done. Marjorie once more, he presumed angrily.

  *

  ‘I have something planned,’ Marjorie said when she and Phillip were alone. ‘A wonderful surprise for you, but it won’t be ready for several weeks. Can you come back, or, better still, stay a while longer? It’s something you need and which you’ll love.’

  ‘Any clues?’ Phillip coaxed.

  ‘None. You’ll just have to wait.’

  ‘I don’t think I can stay. I’m running short of cash and I haven’t brought any work to sell or—’

  ‘Forget about money, your father and I will help out, you know that.’

  Phillip smiled. He was in no hurry. Now Connie had gone he could stay home perhaps for a few months. His mother wanted it and she could always talk his father round. And his mother’s attitude towards Hope meant he wouldn’t be bothered by the presence of the tiresome Davy. He might see if he could take an evening course, he mused. Boring, but it might keep Dad happy.

  Marjorie kept her secret as she could never keep the confidences of others. She had contacted a building firm and plans were made for the conversion of the brick shed into a comfortable room. That it was going to be a proper artist’s studio wouldn’t be revealed until the very last moment. She hugged herself. How thrilled Phillip would be. How his talent would mature.

  Phillip was aware of nothing. He was so rarely at home. He met Matthew several times, and they commiserated with each other about their miserable lives.

  ‘I try, Phillip, I really do. Sally doesn’t need me, yet she’s always complaining about my never being there. What am I supposed to do? I went home last Friday and they were on their way out to some rehearsal or other. I can’t remember what they’re involved in, can I? They never tell me, except when I forget to appear to clap and tell them all how clever and talented they are.’

  ‘We all have to perform,’ Phillip agreed vaguely. ‘I now have to act like a five-year-old at Christmas and try to guess what boring surprise Mother is planning.’

  ‘What d’you think it is?’

  ‘I hope it’s a car, that would be perfect. Something to take me as far as I can go from this place without actually falling into the sea!’

  *

  Over the following week several of Hope’s customers cancelled orders. It wasn’t until the fifth client had told Hope she no longer needed her services that she began seriously to worry.

  ‘I had thought that, with the cost of Christmas, some of them were finding it hard to afford a new dress,’ she said to Joyce as she deleted another name from the order book. ‘Now I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve displeased someone in some way and the others are supporting her in a protest, without telling me why.’

  Joyce said nothing, Hope saw her look away to stare out of the window, obviously ill at ease.

  ‘Joyce? Do you know something that I don’t?’

  ‘It’s nonsense, Hope. But there has been a stupid rumour. Forget it, you’re good at what you do and people will soon come back and beg you to make clothes for them.’

  ‘A rumour? Please, Joyce, tell me what’s being said.’

  ‘Let’s say the sympathy people felt for you after Ralph died is now transferred to your mother-in-law.’

  ‘But why? What on earth is being said?’

  ‘That you and Peter – that you and Peter are lovers and were even before Ralph died. You’re being blamed for his suicide.’

  ‘Go on,’ Hope said, trying to stop her hands from trembling. ‘Tell me the rest.’

  ‘They’re saying you and Peter were the reason for Ralph falling in front of the car, that it wasn’t an accident but a first attempt…’ She couldn’t go on. ‘Oh Hope, it’s so unfair and I feel sure your mother-in-law is at the bottom of it.’

  ‘She usually is,’ Hope said sadly. ‘Can you imagine how it feels to be so disliked? It’s horrible, it really is.’

  By the first week of November there were few customers remaining in the order book, and Hope knew that unless something changed quickly and dramatically she would run out of money before the end of January. The business that had been an almost immediate success, and had seemed set to continue to thrive, was almost gone.

  Eight

  In an attempt to fill her time and put the alarming prospect of running out of money from her mind, Hope busied herself in the garden. Between times, when the weather made this impossible, she and Joyce made cushions in the hope that one day, when this recent lie had blown over, they might sell them.

  *

  The day when most people collected their pensions was Stella’s busiest. The shop was filled from counter to door all morning. The customers chattered and for most of the time Stella was unaware of what was being said. She took books, stamped them, paid out and hardly looked further than the hands that offered and received.

  Then a voice penetrated her brain.

  ‘That first so-called accident, when poor Ralph was hit by the car,’ Mrs Harris was saying. ‘That was never no accident, more like his first attempt to end it all, driven to despair he was by the carryings-on of that wife of his.’

  ‘Mrs Harris, I have to ask you to leave,’ Stella said. Snapping down the counter flap behind her, she stood facing the woman in the small post office area, pointing a querulous finger towards the door. ‘I won’t have such gossip spoken in my shop.’

  ‘Denying it won’t make it untrue. I’m only saying the same as everyone else.’

  Stella stood, pointing at the door. Mrs Green opened it and Mrs Harris stalked out unrepentant. Stella continued to point at the door until Mrs Green followed.

  Hands on hips, Stella turned to face the rest of the wide-eyed people waiting to be served.

  ‘The truth – supposing you’re interested – is Hope hardly even knew Peter until after Ralph was dead,’ Stella said to the other women waiting to be served. That’s the truth, ladies. Boring, mind, but the truth!’

  A few nodded, some smiled but most were unconvinced. No one argued; they needed their pensions, or stamps and postal orders and they didn’t want to risk being told to leave, like Mrs Harris and Mrs Green.

  ‘Peter Bevan never counted Marjorie among his customers, so how could they have known each other? Heavens above, can you imagine Marjorie buying her vegetables off a horse and cart? She’d die of starvation first!’ A few laughed but most remained silent, hugging their own opinion close.

  It was clear from the violent way she stamped the pension books that Stella was angry. People were so easily convinced of the bad in others, ignoring the facts for the sake of a good gossip. She decided to go and see Hope when she closed the shop for lunch. Take a piece of cake and beg a cup of tea. The poor girl had to be reminded that not everyone was as stupid as Mrs Harris. To talk to Hope, cheer her up, was a start, but surely there was something else she could do?

  ‘Mam,’ she said, when her mother called a few minutes later, ‘you’re having a new dres
s. Right?’

  ‘Any special reason?’ her mother asked. ‘An outing or something?‘

  ‘Or something.’ Stella snapped.

  Hope and Joyce were making patchwork cushion covers with leftover material; Davy was playing with his train set.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Stella called, stepping into the kitchen. ‘Any chance of a cuppa, then? Brought some cake I have, enough for four.’

  Hope came out smiling a welcome. ‘Stella. what a lovely surprise. We‘ve made some sandwiches, won’t you share them with us? Davy’s favourite at the moment, Heinz sandwich spread.’

  She led Stella into the living room and Davy looked up. smiled, then left his game and ran to greet her. ‘Hello Auntie Stella, will you play with me? I need a signalman.’

  Stella laughed. ‘It’s Uncle Colin you need for that – he’s even got a railway uniform. Why don’t you ask your mam to make one for you, eh?’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ Hope said, and Joyce at once began searching through the boxes of oddments to find some suitable material.

  ‘He’s missing his friends,’ Hope confided, when she and Stella went to make the tea.

  ‘Where have they gone? No one’s moved away that I know of.’

  ‘Stop pretending, Stella.‘ Hope gave a sad sigh. ‘No one wants to know us since the rumours began. I’m a scarlet woman and tainted with evil. No one is safe around me, especially innocent children. Didn’t you know?’

  Evading an answer, Stella said, ‘I came to ask if you’d make Mam another dress. Pleased she was with the last one. Fits like a dream.’

  ‘You don’t have to do this, but thank you.’

  ‘Your clothes fit like no others. All those who’re difficult to fit, who can’t buy straight off the peg like most of us, thrilled they are at what you can do with your clever little fingers. Hope, Mam feels more confident that she has for a long time. There are many others who feel the same. Martha Powell for one, her with the damaged spine. Wore an old riding mac and trousers every day of her life she did, until you made her that dress and jacket. You designed it special, built up the shoulder, made it hang right. I bet she wouldn’t go anywhere else for new clothes. You are good at what you do and people will soon forget the ugliness of today when they need something. Outrage and disapproval are all very well, but they won’t get in the way of acquiring something of quality, believe me.’

  ‘Thank you, Stella, I don’t know what I’d do without you and Kitty and Joyce and—’ She stopped as tears threatened.

  ‘Where’s that tea then? And didn’t you say something about sandwiches? I have to get back for two o’clock. It’s old Harold Francis’s day to buy his postal order to do the pools and he’ll knock the door down if I’m a bit late opening.’

  A few followed Stella’s lead and gave orders to Hope, including Martha, but it wasn’t enough. With Christmas so close, and needing to buy at least a few surprises for Davy, she had to find other work. Her greatest fear was that, as with the dress making, no one would want to employ her.

  ‘I don’t want to lose you, Joyce,’ she said a few days later, ‘but I won’t be able to pay your wages for much longer, unless the town has a dramatic change of heart. I have to get a job, and with Davy to look after it isn’t going to be easy.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll find a job easily enough, and when everything settles I’d like to come back. Meanwhile, I’ll help as and when I can. Perhaps I could look after Davy for an hour or two each day while you go out. And I’ve been wondering. This is a big house, could you take a lodger? If you explain to Geoff Tanner, tell him how unfairly you’re being treated, I’m sure he’ll allow it. He’s a very reasonable landlord, isn’t he?’

  ‘Now that is a good idea. I think this house likes being filled with people. If I could find the right lodger, I might be able to leave Davy with her and do something like early deliveries of milk or even the post. They take women now, don’t they?’ Then she shook her head. ‘No, that wouldn’t do. I could never leave Davy with a stranger, no matter how desperate things become. And those who know me wouldn’t want to live here now.’

  An unexpected letter a few days later promised to solve at least a part of her problem. She took it to Geoff and asked if it were possible for her to rent out a room. ‘It won’t bring in much, but even a few shillings extra will help me at the moment,’ she told him. ‘Things have suddenly got worse, and I have to thank my mother-in-law’s venom for it. How can she do this to her grandson? I don’t blame her for hating me, but Davy’s a baby and he’s done her no harm.’

  ‘Neither have you.’ Geoff reminded her. ‘Don’t start believing the stories that are spreading or you’ll ruin your life and Davy’s. You were heard to say you killed Ralph. The words were obviously taken out of context but they were damaging.’

  ‘I did say that. I even believed it for a while. He wasn’t keen to leave his parents’ home and I made him come away and start to build a home for us, Davy and me. Ralph was never brave, was he?’

  ‘Marjorie was a very strong-willed mother, and of all the three boys Ralph was the most amiable.’

  ‘The weakest.’

  ‘All right, the one least able to defy her. He accepted everything his mother said and never questioned anything, until he married you. He tried to do what you wanted. He wanted to please you, Hope, never forget that.’ He could see she was upset and rubbed his hands together as though putting the subject of Ralph aside. ‘Now, who is this lodger you have in mind?’

  She handed him the letter. ‘It’s Connie, the woman who said she was married to Phillip. She must have heard from Stella that I was looking for a lodger.’

  ‘Connie?’ he breathed. ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘She wants to come back, but not to see Phillip. She needs a change, a fresh start, and thinks this town, this friendly town, she calls it, will be a good place to do so.’ She looked at Geoff in surprise. He was smiling so widely he looked like a stranger; his eyes were dark and glowing with delight. ‘Connie?’ he whispered again. ‘I think she’d be a perfect choice.’

  With the agreement with Geoff settled and the promise of rent for the room, Hope was pleased, but knew it was nowhere near enough for survival. The sensible thing would be to move, find a room, somewhere cheaper, but that was something she wouldn’t consider. Badgers Brook was her home and here she would stay. Every time she walked into the house she was surrounded by an atmosphere of wellbeing and warmth, the knowledge that the house was theirs. It wanted them there, and it offered a security that made her determined to stay. Each morning when she woke it was to a feeling of utter peace, the facts she had to face coming slowly, gently and without causing sudden shock and dismay. Everything was possible while she stayed in Badgers Brook. Whatever she had to do to earn the necessary money she would do.

  *

  There was a small dress shop on the corner opposite Geoff Tanner’s hardware store, and, seeing a notice in the window for an alteration hand, Hope went there to apply.

  The shop was a small one but it stocked moderately priced garments that appealed to the local women and was always busy. Customers called between finishing their shopping and catching their bus home, to browse and chat with others, so, like Betty at the Ship and Compass, Nerys Bowen was always up to date on local news.

  She smiled apologetically when Hope asked about the vacancy. ‘Sorry, Mrs Murton, but the position is now filled,’ she said.

  Geoff, watching from his corner shop guessed why Hope and called and went to see Nerys to ask what had happened.

  ‘No, I didn’t give her the job,’ she said in reply to Geoff’s enquiry. ‘Sorry to my heart, I am, but I couldn’t.’ She admitted that she was worried the rumours about Hope might affect her business. ‘It’s terrible the way people gossip,’ she added.

  Geoff stared at her. ‘It is, and you’re no better than the rest, are you?’

  Several days later, the advertisement was still there, which forced Hope into an unpleasa
nt decision. No one wanted her skills as a dressmaker, but there was one woman who wouldn’t say no to employing her.

  Betty Connors welcomed Hope back as a cleaner. ‘Sorry I am that it’s necessary, dear, but I’d love to have you back. Truth is, it’s never been done properly since you left.’ Ruefully Hope accepted the compliment and the job.

  *

  Peter hadn’t seen Hope since the accusations began. He wanted to call and apologize for his thoughtlessness in calling so late at night, and make unfounded promises that it would all blow over. He wanted to reassure her, tell her life would return to how it had been before the rumours began. Every time he approached the house he turned away. He could so easily make things worse. The attitude of the local people seemed set to continue. Once their mind was made up, most were reluctant to change it. He and Hope would have to wait until the stories died down from lack of nourishment, and that meant they would have to avoid seeing each other.

  He had tried to write to her but each time the letter ended up in the bin. Better to wait and meet accidentally, then a few brief words would suffice.

  He wanted to tell her how he missed her and Davy, and how he hoped that, once the unpleasantness had faded, he would return to regular visits to the warm, friendly house by the brook.

  Blaming himself, he felt deprived of more than Hope and Davy’s company: he missed the meetings with neighbours and new friends, and he missed the laughter. He felt his loneliness more than ever before. His mind was filled with memories of the past summer as being one pleasurable, continuous evening, long, lazy hours of uncomplicated enjoyment, and he wanted so much to be a part of it again.

  *

  Hope had heard that Phillip was staying with Matthew, and prayed he would be far away from Cwm Derw when Connie arrived. He was certainly no longer at Ty Mawr, according to Stella. Also according to post office gossip, he was working as an assistant in a shop that sold a few paintings and prints, calendars and cards, and glorified itself with the name: Grosvenor Galleries. Hope wrote to Connie telling her all she knew and invited her to move into Badgers Brook as a lodger, reminding her to bring her ration book and promising to look out for a suitable job for her.