Better Days Will Come

by Pam Weaver

  ‘Could these be what you want?’

  She held up a pair of voluminous powder-blue silk drawers with an elasticated waist and long legs which stretched as far as the knee. As soon as Bonnie saw them, she recognised them as the type of garment her granny used to wear.

  Bonnie smiled as she recalled the shocked look on the old biddy’s face when she’d said, ‘If that’s what they are, I’d sooner work in the garden with no knickers at all!’

  After she’d put her things in the wardrobe, Bonnie got out her small box of private things and tipped them onto the bed. A few old birthday cards, a little round of hair she’d collected from Rita’s hairbrush the day she’d left home and Mum’s best hanky. It was probably a good idea to keep all her important documents in one place. After all, that’s what Mum did. She rounded up her allowance book, her post office book and Shirley’s birth certificate, all lurking at the bottom of her handbag, and put them in the box. Then she remembered her own birth certificate. George had told her to bring it with her because she would need it in order to get a passport. She kept that folded up in the lid of her jewellery box. She didn’t know why she still kept the box. She’d lost the pretty locket George had given her with it. It had upset her dreadfully when she’d realised it was gone and although she’d racked her brains, she couldn’t really remember where she’d last had it. She remembered she’d been fiddling with it when she’d gone into that rundown factory where George used to work. The place was in an awful mess and yet George had told her he was personally in charge of cleaning it up. There were paper and boxes strewn everywhere. It would take ages to clear up. And then the caretaker, wearing a long brown overall and a hat pulled down over his eyes, had come out of that little room at the back and shouted at her.

  ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?’

  He had given her such a shock, she’d dropped her handbag and everything had spilled out. Stuffing it all back inside, she’d just turned on her heel and fled. Luckily, the bus was coming along the road and she was right beside the stop. From the safety of the lower deck of the speeding bus, she saw him come out onto the street, look up and down and then go back inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Her little locket was somewhere in among all that rubbish but she hadn’t missed it until she got to London and by then it was far too late.

  Bonnie found the certificate and spread it out. She recognised her own certificate, but there was something else folded with it. It was a tissue-thin letter addressed to her mother in her maiden name. Bonnie opened it and read with mounting horror.

  It was dated 12th May 1924 and began:

  My dear Grace,

  I cannot tell you how delighted I was to hear of the birth of your baby yesterday. John is such a nice name. Please keep in touch. My son loved you very much. He should have done the right thing by you, but we will welcome your son into the family. My dear, I do not have long to live and I would welcome the opportunity to see my grandson before I die.

  Yours sincerely,

  Edward Finley.

  Bonnie took in her breath. The envelope was addressed to Grace Follett. Her mother’s maiden name was Follett. What did this mean? Five years before she was born, her mother had had an illegitimate child? Bonnie’s hand trembled as she put it to her lips. And that child was called John Finley. She knew a John Finley. Didn’t he used to come to the WMCS shows with Dinah? Surely it couldn’t be the same person. The only other Finley she knew was the man who had been George’s boss … and come to think of it, her mother’s boss too! Was he John Finley’s father? Bonnie looked at the certificate again and her blood ran cold. Norris Finley was a horrible man. He’d come to the shop one day with his wife. He’d been so demanding, even shouting at Miss Bridewell, and by the time they left, nearly everyone was in tears, including his poor wife.

  The door opened and her roommate came in. ‘Sorry. Hope I’m not disturbing you?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Bonnie pulled herself together and wiped her face with her thumbs. She glanced at the clock. ‘I’ve got to go and feed the baby in a minute anyway.’

  She tumbled everything into the box and shut it in the only drawer with a lock and key. ‘What time do we have to be on duty in the morning?’

  ‘Seven,’ said Doreen, ‘but I think you’ll be earlier, won’t you?’

  Bonnie nodded. ‘The six o’clock feed.’

  Doreen groaned in sympathy. ‘Sooner you than me.’

  It was April 30th. Grace dragged herself to work but she had no appetite for it. She hoped against hope that Norris was away on business but it wasn’t to be. His car was in the parking space outside the factory and he was already in his office.

  ‘You look a bit pasty,’ Snowy remarked as they had their mid-morning break.

  ‘Me?’ said Grace brightly. ‘I’m fine. Poor old Elsie is wondering what to do with her Dougie,’ Grace went on, desperate to change the subject. ‘He’s left school and he needs a job.’

  ‘That lad’ll never work,’ sighed Snowy. ‘I know he gets there in the end but who’s got the patience with him?’

  Grace had to agree.

  They were working on another knitwear order, this time for America. They were pretty lacy jumpers with short sleeves in two-ply wool. Grace loved the feel of them. They were so soft, like lambswool or cashmere.

  They went back to work but her thoughts were all over the place. Was Norris serious when he said she had to decide by the end of the month? He couldn’t make her do it, could he? She worried about it and yet she knew he wouldn’t have to. Much as she hated the idea of being alone with him, if he really meant to tell the police about Bonnie’s locket, she would walk to hell and back again to stop him. Then there was Archie. He was such a lovely man and she really enjoyed being in his company. They had always loved walking together but now he took her for meals, or to the pictures. Last Friday, her half day and now his, he’d held her hand as they went along that bit of pier that was still open.

  He’d opened up a bit about the war. Grace had felt she was privileged at the time. She’d realised quite early on in their relationship that Archie was a private man and that he chose his friends carefully. Every Sunday he visited his grandmother who lived in a nursing home, but he’d lost his parents in the bombing in Cornwall of all places.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about the Fair Rents panel,’ he said. The countrywide panels had been set up by the government after the war to make sure people were not being overcharged by unscrupulous landlords. ‘I reckon if we banded together, we could force our landlord to take notice. It’s against the law not to have a rent book now.’

  Grace looked thoughtful. ‘So you think if we draw attention to his wrongdoing he’ll be forced to comply?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Archie. ‘The thing is, you know the people round here better than I do. You could persuade them to sign the petition.’

  Grace had been sceptical. She might be able to persuade her neighbours but in her present predicament how would it leave her? Norris already had the upper hand. He was sure to give the locket to the police if she went ahead with a petition.

  ‘The landlord doesn’t need to know about it,’ said Archie as if reading her thoughts.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ she said. The trouble was, the more she thought about it, the less she liked the idea.

  ‘You coming on the works outing?’ Snowy asked as later that morning they made their way back to the canteen.

  ‘Try and stop me,’ laughed Grace. ‘Exbury Gardens, isn’t it?’

  Snowy nodded. ‘You’d better put your name down. The coach is filling up fast.’

  Snowy carried on to the canteen while Grace stopped by the notice board.

  ‘Save me a place,’ she called.

  Grace picked up the pencil and added her name to the list. ‘When is it?’

  ‘It’s the end of the month,’ said a soft voice behind her. Her blood ran cold. She turned and looked up into Norris’s face. He was smiling.

  ‘I c
an’t,’ she said helplessly. ‘I can’t.’

  He raised an eyebrow, nodded sagely and walked away. She was immediately seized with panic. If Bonnie had been in there, in that factory the day that boy died, she must have known something. If she were only a witness, why hadn’t she come forward? If she had nothing to hide, she would have told the police. Grace stared at Norris’s receding back. What was he going to do? If she said no to him, she might as well put a noose around her daughter’s neck herself.

  ‘No!’ she cried. ‘Wait!’

  He paused by the iron staircase. ‘Mrs Rogers,’ he said stiffly and without turning to look at her, ‘I wonder if you might come up to my office for a moment?’

  Grace turned to look in the direction of the canteen. Snowy had gone; in fact most of the factory girls were either inside already or queuing up to go in. Grace followed Norris up the stairs, her eyes smarting with unshed tears. She was doing this for her daughter – she had to, she had no choice.

  ‘Shut the door,’ he said as she came in.

  Grace closed the door and stood with her head bowed. ‘Why are you making me do this?’

  ‘Let’s get one thing clear, Grace,’ he said coldly. ‘Nobody ismaking you do anything. You are here because you want tobe.’

  She looked up but any faint hope that he might not make her go through with it died instantly. He had Bonnie’s locket in his hands and was playing with the clasp. As soon as he knew she’d seen it, he put it in his pocket.

  ‘Norris, please …’

  He laid a key on the table. ‘I am looking for someone to clean one of my properties,’ he said matter of factly.

  She frowned, puzzled. ‘Cleaning?’

  ‘Number 21 North Street,’ he went on. ‘It’s just before Ashdown Road.’

  ‘Cleaning?’ she repeated.

  ‘You have to have a reason to be there,’ he said. ‘Come next Thursday, May 8th. Make it 7.30pm.’ He gave her a knowing smile. ‘Then I shall have the pleasure of showing you exactly what I want you to do for me.’

  Eighteen

  Sunday was to be their last time together. Grace had made up her mind that if she had to go to Norris for the sake of her daughter, she couldn’t bring herself to cheat on Archie as well. It would hurt him far too much and he had suffered enough already. She had to end their relationship. It was only right.

  She also had to go back up to London and try and find Bonnie again. It was imperative to get to the truth, no matter how difficult it might be. Bonnie would never be a party to murder. There had to be another explanation and Grace was all the more determined to find her daughter and get to the bottom of it.

  When they met, Archie suggested they go up to Cissbury Ring. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect. It was a warm day with a light breeze. She had brought some sandwiches and a flask of tea which he had put into his knapsack when they’d met outside the shop.

  ‘I’ve got a letter to post to my mother,’ she said stealing a glance at him. He looked more handsome than ever. ‘Remind me when we go past the letterbox.’

  When they got on the bus, Archie told her Cissbury Ring was one of the largest hill forts in Sussex and that it was built two hundred years before Christ. Grace didn’t know much about the history of the place but she knew that from the top you could see Chichester Cathedral to the west and as far as Brighton and Beachy Head in the east. During the war, it had been used as a camp for the 2nd Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. Their manoeuvres damaged a fair bit of the land and some of it had been ploughed up to grow food, none of which went down too well with the locals. Grace listened to every word he said. She wanted to remember every moment of this day.

  When they were on the bus, Archie sat so close to her that his thigh and hers were touching. He placed his hand over hers and held it firmly down on his own leg as they sat in companionable silence. The bus went through Broadwater and on to Offington Corner where it turned towards Findon Valley. They got off at the bottom of Nepcote Lane and walked the rest of the way. It was a steep hill and good exercise.

  When her girls were small, she and Michael had walked up here. Not very often because Highdown Hill was a lot closer to home, but she remembered the children gathering blackberries on the way.

  They walked right to the top and, breathless with exertion, they sat down under a tree with its trunk at their backs. Rumour had it that at night, people practised pagan rites up here but Grace was never sure if that was for real or a yarn. A skylark soared above them and soon the swallows would leave. In the distance a dog was barking and the fields below were dotted with sheep. Being up here in this haven only brought home all the more sharply her own sense of turmoil.

  ‘Have you thought any more about the petition?’ he asked.

  Grace didn’t know what to say. She was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. She knew Norris wanted Elsie Dawson and her family out, for instance. Harry was becoming more difficult and Dougie had always been a bit odd. Elsie’s rent was a good thirty bob more than hers by now and yet the house was identical. The petition was the right thing to do, but what would happen to Bonnie if Grace were a party to it and Norris saw her name on the form?

  Archie was waiting for an answer.

  ‘I’ll let you know at the end of the day,’ she said miserably.

  Archie dozed while Grace wrote a letter to Bonnie. There wasn’t a day that passed when she didn’t think of her daughter, wondering where she was and what she was doing. She still had nowhere to send the letters but the shoebox was half full already. Grace comforted herself that if she didn’t see Bonnie this side of the grave, one day her daughter would know she had never forgotten her.

  Archie knew that she was writing to Bonnie. He never asked what she said and he never pooh-poohed the idea either and Grace loved him for that. This was her moment: personal, private and tinged with sadness.

  Grace leaned back against the tree trunk and read what she had written. She began with the walk and the view. She told Bonnie how Rita had gone to the theatre for the first time. ‘Rita spends more and more time with Liliana,’ she wrote. ‘She helps in the shop in the evening, clearing up and stuff. Her new friend Dinah has asked her to help her clean up her grandmother’s cottage as well.’

  ‘Finished?’ Archie said sitting up. ‘I’m starving.’

  Grace took the sandwiches out of the knapsack and offered him one. He smiled and took it eagerly. All at once, Grace felt tears spring to her eyes. This would be the last time. She might see him at the shop but this would be their last time together. It wasn’t fair. She never thought she would find another good man but she couldn’t bring herself to break his heart in the way his wife had done. She comforted herself that it was still early on in their relationship. He’d move on and meet someone else eventually.

  ‘The business is picking up quite well,’ he said. ‘I had two orders this week, one chair to reupholster and a three piece suite with a woven cane backing.’

  ‘Is that good?’

  ‘Very,’ he smiled. ‘The chair will be done in the very best leather I can get and the suite will take me a while.’ He lowered his voice confidentially. ‘I can tell you now that both of them will be hideously expensive.’

  ‘You need to take my chair,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I might not need to if you were my wife.’

  The question got lost somewhere. He’d expected some sort of reaction, but Grace pretended she hadn’t heard. She was toying with an idea. ‘If you’re doing so well,’ she began, ‘is it possible you could offer a job to Dougie?’

  ‘Dougie?’

  ‘Elsie Dawson’s boy,’ she said. ‘You remember him. He was the one fixing the clockwork toy at Christmas.’

  ‘Oh I remember,’ said Archie. ‘He’s a bit simple, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s not as thick as they make out,’ she said stoutly. ‘If you can explain things to him, he’ll get it. You just need a little patience that’s all.’

  ‘I don’t know,
Gracie,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure I’m ready to take on another person. I couldn’t pay much either.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have to if you took on Dougie,’ she insisted. ‘All right, he’s a bit odd but a more loyal person you could never wish to meet.’

  He put his arm around her and pulled her back onto his chest. ‘Oh Gracie, you’re wonderful,’ he said, kissing her hair. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Grace was tense and on edge. Here she was, sorting out someone else’s life, when her own was in such a mess. She had heard him say, I might not need to if you were my wife … but she didn’t want him to ask her to marry him again. If he did she would have to say no. She didn’t want to spoil this last perfect afternoon, she wanted her memories to be completely unsullied. They would soon be all she had left. Coward that she was, she didn’t want to tell him up here. She gulped back a sob.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘Fine,’ she said brightly. ‘Just enjoying the view.’

  When they got back to Worthing, he stopped outside his shop. ‘Coming in while I wash your flask?’

  She shook her head. ‘Give me the flask here. I can wash it up when I get home.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ he protested mildly.

  ‘No, really,’ she said. She held her hand out.

  ‘Aren’t you coming in?’ He sounded both hurt and puzzled.

  She took the flask and the sandwich box and then stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘No Archie. Thanks for a lovely day but I shan’t be coming in.’

  He looked stunned. ‘What did I say?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, willing her voice to stay strong. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to get someone else to do your petition. I’msorry, Archie. You’ve been what you always are, the perfect gent. I shall never forget you, but I’m afraid I can’t do this again.’

  He snatched at her arm. It was tearing her to shreds saying all this.