There’s Always Tomorrow

by Pam Weaver

  Sylvie’s letter was chatty and fun. After she’d told Dottie all about the children she wrote:

  Robin is as busy as ever. I have been thinking about your wonderful talent for furnishings and I was wondering if you would come here and do some work for me? I can’t invite you just yet, because I am meeting my riding friend in London for a few days …

  Oh Sylvie, Dottie thought, you are naughty.

  … I will be in touch with you as soon as I get back. Don’t forget, darling, if ever you are in trouble, you know where I am.

  Dottie slipped Sylvie’s letter into her apron pocket as Reg came out of the house, dressed and ready for work. ‘Any post?’

  Dottie handed him the bills and his letter and, after a cursory glance, he pushed them into his pocket. ‘What’s the matter with you? You’ve got a face like a wet weekend.’

  ‘I wish Peaches would write,’ she said. ‘I’ve sent her three or four letters but ever since we had that row about Gary, I haven’t heard a word.’

  He was looking at her with a strange expression. She frowned. ‘What? What is it?’ Something was wrong …

  ‘You know something, don’t you, Reg. Is it Gary? Has something happened to him?’

  He went into his shed and took down a small tin. A few seconds later, she heard him unlocking a drawer. ‘I didn’t want you to see this,’ he said coming back out. ‘I knew you’d be upset.’

  His face was so serious, her mouth went dry and her chest felt tight.

  ‘Peaches came round.’

  Dottie gasped. ‘What? When? I didn’t see her.’

  ‘I found this pushed through the letterbox.’ He handed her something. Tears swam in Dottie’s eyes as she recognised her own letter to Peaches. It had been torn in half.

  ‘I tried to protect you,’ said Reg, ‘but this makes it obvious, doesn’t it? She doesn’t want anything to do with you.’

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ said Dottie quietly. She stared down at the pieces. ‘Why didn’t she read it? If only she had opened it first, it would have explained everything.’

  Reg put his arm around her shoulder. ‘She’s not bloody worth it.’

  He went back into the shed and brought out his bike. ‘Well, I’m off now. See you at ten and then we’ll have some fun.’

  She almost retched. She had a lump in her throat and she could feel her eyes pricking. At least she still had one friend, she thought, glancing at Sylvie’s letter again. Should she read it again already? No. It was something to look forward to when she finished the washing. Shoving the letter back into her apron pocket, she picked up the other end of a folded sheet and reached for the handle.

  Twenty-One

  ‘People will think we’re off to another wedding,’ Dottie joked as Reg locked the front door on the morning they went to fetch Patsy.

  It was Thursday October 11th and the weather was bright and clear. Dottie was happy. Determined not to think about her fears today, and dressed in her best clothes, she and Reg walked arm in arm to the station to catch the train to Southampton. Over her other arm, she carried a warm coat taken from the bag of children’s clothes Mary had given her.

  The truth of the matter was, her feelings were all over the place. She still hadn’t had her period but she hadn’t been sick in the morning. Could that mean it was a false alarm? Plenty of people missed a month now and again. She’d heard Peaches and Mary talk about it often enough.

  Even though Reg was still rough in bed, during the daytime he’d been really nice to her, calling her ‘my little wifey’ and kissing her on the cheek. He’d had another letter from abroad with instructions as to where to meet Patsy when she arrived in the country. It was from Dr Landers, the man who was bringing Patsy from Australia and it had been posted in Gibraltar.

  I suspect Brenda has already told you that I am returning to England to spend some time with my widowed mother who has been very unwell. Nurse Tranter is in charge of Patricia but I am on hand should she need any help. Nurse Tranter is a capable woman with many years of experience. She is moving back to Wales to retire. We shall all be arriving in Southampton. The responsibility is no hardship because I have become very fond of Patricia. Despite her straitened circumstances, Sandy did an amazing job with her and we are all hoping that Patricia will settle down with you very quickly. However, I should like to keep up contact with her, and I know it will ease Brenda’s mind if every now and then she can have a first-hand report. Perhaps when we meet, we could arrange a date at our mutual convenience for me to come and see Patricia in her new home.

  I remain yours sincerely,

  J. Landers.

  ‘Bloody interfering busybodies,’ Reg had grumbled. ‘Everybody wants to sticky-beak into my business.’

  But this morning, as Dottie had watched him putting the letter into his breast pocket, Reg had been very excited and she was glad for him. Perhaps this really would be the start of a new era in their lives. Perhaps with a child in the house he would restrain himself a little more. Certainly he wouldn’t be able to make her do some of the things he’d wanted with Patsy around. For a start, he’d have to stop groping her whenever he wanted. Besides, maybe if he took it a little slower, she might even get to like it … No, she would never get used to it, and she shuddered at the thought.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

  ‘Just thinking about meeting Patsy,’ she said.

  He patted her hand. ‘Good girl,’ he murmured.

  Yes, she thought hopefully, perhaps he will change. Look what happened to Tom Prior.

  ‘I’ve never seen such a change in a man,’ Mary had said after the birth of the twins. ‘He became a father overnight to my kids and now that Christopher and Connie are here, he can’t do enough for us all.’

  They had reached the station.

  ‘Off to fetch our kid today,’ Reg told Marney as they stopped by the ticket office for a rail pass. As an employee, Reg didn’t have to pay.

  Marney cupped his illicit cigarette behind his hand and coughed. ‘Best of luck, mate,’ he said, once he’d recovered.

  The 8.32 thundered into the station. The next time I see this platform, Dottie thought to herself, my life will be changed forever. They selected a seat and Reg took out his newspaper.

  Dottie sat back and did her best to enjoy the journey. Life was so confusing at the moment. A few short weeks ago she had been dreading the thought of having a child in the house, but now it was really happening. As she gazed out of the window, she seemed to see little pockets of family life everywhere. A woman and her children waiting at the gates at Angmering to go to school, a little boy on a rope swing in a garden somewhere near Chichester, a man with a small child on his shoulders watching the trains go by at Emsworth, and a group of women with prams waiting outside a church hall for a clinic to start at Fareham.

  Throughout the journey, Dottie lovingly stroked Patsy’s coat. It was a very pretty cherry red trimmed with black. None of Mary’s children had worn it, but she fancied it was the same one Freda’s little sister used to wear. It was double-breasted and made with wool. It had black buttons and a black trim on the cuffs, a Peter Pan collar and a flared skirt. There was a matching bonnet with a turned-back brim trimmed with black and a tie under the chin. It would make a perfect frame for a halo of blonde curls. Dottie had made some knitted gloves to go with it. It might be mild for the time of year, but Dottie reasoned that, coming from such a hot place, Patsy wouldn’t be used to the autumnal nip in the air.

  She wondered what Dr Landers would be like. Having given the best years of his life to Australia, he was probably glad to be returning to his homeland to retire. He was obviously very worried about his poor old mother. Seeing as Nurse Tranter was returning to retire as well, Dottie hoped they hadn’t found looking after a lively eight year old too tiring.

  By the time they’d reached Havant, Reg was chain smoking and the tension mounted as they pulled into Southampton station. He almost lost it at the ticket barrier. He had given her
the rail pass as they got on the train at Worthing and she’d absentmindedly pushed it into her bag. During the journey, it had slipped right down the bottom, and Dottie couldn’t find it straight away.

  The ticket collector waited patiently.

  ‘Women,’ laughed Reg. ‘She’s got everything but the kitchen sink in there.’

  The man shared the joke as Dottie struggled to find the pass. It took her several minutes and it was only unearthed after she’d taken out her purse, lipstick, a couple of hankies, a set of keys, as well as some old letters Aunt Bessie wrote when her mother died.

  ‘You only had the bloody thing five minutes,’ Reg hissed in her ear as they left.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Dottie said.

  ‘Give it here,’ he said churlishly, snatching it from her hand and put it in his back pocket. ‘Making me look a ruddy fool …’

  In his letter, Dr Landers had suggested they meet in the foyer of the Railway Hotel. It was an old Victorian building which, amazingly, had survived the terrible bombing in the city. Its dark red and gold interior spoke of a bygone and more opulent age. Dottie gazed in wonder at the chandeliers and the plush carpet. The foyer itself was huge. Sofas and chairs were arranged in small groups around the drinks tables. In the windows, between the heavy drapes, large aspidistras blocked the sunlight and at the other end of the foyer was a bar. Several guests and visitors sat on the bar stools enjoying a lunchtime drink. Beyond the foyer, Dottie could see the restaurant, which had white tablecloths and a silver service.

  Reg looked distinctly uncomfortable and began running his finger around the inside of his collar in a desperate attempt to avoid the eye of the doorman. It was obvious he didn’t know what to do, so Dottie took charge.

  Marching up to the reception desk, she said, ‘Mr and Mrs Cox to see Doctor Landers.’

  The receptionist picked up the telephone and as Reg came to join her she noticed his collar was sticking up at the corner. She went to smooth it out for him but he hit her hand away and glared at her.

  The receptionist replaced the receiver. ‘Dr Landers will come down as soon as he can,’ she said. ‘He invites you to order a drink from the bar at his expense.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Dottie graciously. ‘I’ll …’

  ‘I’ll have a pint of bitter,’ Reg interrupted. ‘She’ll have a port and lemon.’

  The receptionist glanced back at Dottie and she nodded. In actual fact, she would have preferred to try out one of those new Babycham drinks she’d seen advertised at the pictures but now she was too embarrassed to change the order.

  ‘If you would like to sit down …’ the receptionist smiled.

  ‘Where?’ Reg wanted to know.

  ‘Anywhere you like, sir. The waiter will bring your order.’

  They sat near a window, Reg following Dottie until she chose the place, her only aim to get as far away from the desk as possible.

  ‘Why come all the way over here?’ he grumbled as he sat down. Dottie ignored him, preferring to look out of the window. Her chin wobbled and her eyes were pricking.

  Southampton was a busy place. She had never seen so many cars and pedestrians. Across the road, there was a bombsite, overgrown with weeds and buddleia, but in other open spaces she could see bright modern buildings going up. It all looked so light and fresh.

  The barman, dressed in white shirtsleeves, black waistcoat and red bowtie brought them their drinks on a silver tray.

  ‘Bring us another beer,’ said Reg, before he’d even taken a sip. As the man walked away he said, ‘I reckon he’s a bloody nancy-boy,’ and Dottie felt sick with embarrassment.

  They sat in silence. Dottie wondered if she would know Dr Landers if she saw him. She turned her head just as a middle-aged man, balding and with a paunch walked towards them. Dottie made eye contact and smiled. She was about to stand up and hold out her hand when the woman on the table in front of them stood up, saying, ‘Charles, darling.’ As the pair met, they embraced each other warmly.

  Dottie shifted her gaze back to the street outside.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Cox?’

  The unexpectedness of his soft voice made her jump. She turned her head and saw a dark-haired man with sparkling hazel eyes and a ready smile.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Reginald Cox?’ he repeated.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Reg.

  Dottie wondered why the man was giving Reg such an odd look. ‘I’m Dr John Landers.’

  She hadn’t expected him to be so young. Well, he wasn’t that young – thirty, thirty-five – but he certainly wasn’t the balding fifty year old she’d been expecting to meet. His face was tanned and he had a line of freckles over the bridge of his nose. His teeth were white and evenly formed. He wore a lightweight cream suit made out of linen and a plain shirt, but no tie.

  They all shook hands and he drew up a chair and sat beside them. ‘I thought I would take the opportunity to have a chat with you before I take you upstairs to meet your daughter.’

  ‘What’s there to chat about?’ Reg asked gruffly.

  Dr Landers was unfazed by his rudeness. ‘How was your trip?’

  ‘We came by train,’ Dottie said quickly. ‘It wasn’t very far. Not as far as you’ve come, anyway.’

  Dr Landers laughed softly. Dottie looked away quickly. He was making her feel all of a flutter.

  ‘I presume you want to take her home straight away,’ he said. ‘She’s in good health but I expect you’ll want to get her looked at by your own doctor. Anyway, I’ve brought all the relevant paperwork with me.’ He placed a small case on the table between them. ‘I won’t open it now, but it’s all there. Her birth certificate, her mother’s death certificate, all her medical reports and the records of her childhood illnesses – you know, measles and all that stuff. By and large, she’s been very healthy all things considered. Is there anything you want to ask me?’

  ‘Brenda said Sandy left me everything,’ Reg said.

  Dottie was shocked but Dr Landers simply smiled. ‘That’s right. All the relevant papers are in the case.

  Reg continued to stare.

  ‘Has Patricia got any likes or dislikes?’ Dottie asked, careful to avoid Dr Landers’ eyes.

  ‘I thought you might ask me that,’ he chuckled. ‘Brenda has written you a letter. She spent days getting it all down, so you can bet your boots everything is there. She’s got her favourite toy, of course, Suzy. A grey elephant. Her mother gave it to her. Suzy goes everywhere with her, and even though she is very grown up in many ways, Patricia gets very upset if she can’t find her.’

  The waiter came back with another pint of beer and Reg took it from the tray himself and took a long drink from it.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Dr Landers, as the waiter hovered. ‘Where are my manners? Would you like something to eat? A meal, a sandwich or something?’

  He ordered a round of sandwiches and Reg excused himself to go to the gents’. He walked briskly. His cheeks prickled with rage and his nostrils flared. The toilet cubicle was occupied and Reg headed straight for the urinal. After relieving himself, he stood chewing the inside of his cheek. How much money was there then? Why couldn’t the doctor tell him and put him out of his misery? Perhaps he didn’t know. Yes, that was it. The solicitor had written a private letter.

  Behind him, the toilet flushed and the waiter who had brought him the beer came out of the cubicle. Reg stared at him, his lip curling. The young man nodded briefly and went to the sink to wash his hands. As he put his hands under the tap, Reg stepped towards him. Their eyes met in the mirror over the sink and the waiter’s face went white. In his haste to get out of the gents’, the man left the tap running. Reg kicked the cubicle door.

  ‘Bloody poofter,’ he shouted after him.

  ‘Your mother …?’ Dottie began as Reg left for the gents’.

  Dr Landers acknowledged her concern with a smile. ‘Nice of you to ask, Mrs Cox. She’s not too good at the moment but I’m hopeful that she will make a full recovery.’
r />   ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘Do you have any other children, Mrs Cox?’

  Dottie shook her head.

  ‘But now you’ve got Patricia.’

  ‘Now I’ve got Patricia,’ she repeated with a smile.

  ‘I’m afraid that by the time the funeral expenses were seen to,’ Dr Landers went on, ‘there wasn’t a lot left. When Brenda took her in, Sandy was almost destitute.’

  ‘We’ll be all right,’ said Dottie. ‘I have a little money coming to me next year. Patsy will lack for nothing.’

  As for the paperwork,’ he went on, ‘now that I’ve handed her over, the solicitor will write to your husband. That correspondence has to be private between him and Mr Cox until such time as you legally adopt Patricia.’

  ‘I quite understand,’ Dottie smiled.

  ‘I know this is none of my business,’ he continued cautiously, ‘but I just want to say, what you are doing is marvellous. It can’t have been easy for you to accept having Patricia as your own child. I must say I admire you enormously.’

  Dottie felt her face colouring. ‘What else could I do? She’s my husband’s child.’

  ‘Ummm,’ said Dr Landers leaning back in the chair. ‘So it would seem.’

  What did that mean? Dottie was slightly puzzled by his remark. She was about to say something when he interrupted her. ‘It doesn’t worry you? Taking in another woman’s child, I mean?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she said but she couldn’t meet his gaze and looked away.