He’d left Sheerness and the army with no regrets, glad to be going home. Back in London he could search for her. He had never given up hope that she’d turn up one day, reluctant to believe, as so many had hinted, that something dreadful had happened to her. He had to hang on to the belief that, confused by her feelings, she’d run away from him. And one day, she’d come back.
Maisie leaned back in her chair, her hands clasped for warmth round the thick china mug. Harry looked up to see her gaze fixed on him, sympathetic, kind, as if she knew what he was going through.
‘Life’s a bitch, ain’t it?’
‘Too right – still we just have to get on with it, don’t we?’
‘Something worrying you? It helps to talk, mate.’
He was tempted to pour it all out, but he couldn’t tell anyone, least of all Maisie, the biggest gossip in the market, how he felt about Ellie.
‘It’s Mary,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t complain but she looks ill and she seems so tired all the time.’
‘Not surprising, considering what she’s gone through the last couple of years,’ Maisie said. ‘Bad enough losing her mum, and all that business with your Sheila. But it must have nearly killed her when your Ellie disappeared.’
Harry stared into his mug, unable to speak. Ellie again.
‘You’d think she’d write – let her mum know she’s safe,’ Maisie stopped abruptly, her hand over her mouth. ‘You don’t think anything’s happened to her, do you?’
Harry reassured her, although the thought was never far from his mind. ‘She sent a card not long after she left. Said she had a job and was staying with nice people. Twice she’s written – but we’ve heard nothing for ages. And she didn’t put an address.’
‘So you’ve no idea where she is, then?’
‘No, the last one was postmarked Colchester – but that doesn’t mean she’s there. She could have got someone to post it for her.’
‘Have you tried to find her, then?’
‘Wouldn’t know where to start,’ Harry said, draining his mug and standing up. He didn’t want to discuss it. Of course he’d tried to find her, written to the Salvation Army, the News of the World. But nothing. What more could he do?
Ellie was happy – or so she managed to convince herself, as long as she didn’t allow thoughts of her family and former life to intrude.
It was easier these days, with Michael Turner out of the way and her friendship and respect for Alex Cameron growing daily. Her work at Turner’s Mill was interesting and, best of all, her new hobby was satisfying her artistic instincts.
The cottage at Little Howe was her home now and she missed the noise and bustle of London less with each day that passed. If sometimes she woke in the night, ears straining for the rattle of trains over the bridge at the end of Kendall Street, the mournful hooting of tugs from the river – well then, it was just a dream, she told herself.
Her days were filled with activity, whether at the mill or at home working on her designs. After the confrontation with Alex over Michael’s dishonesty, she found herself looking forward to the time she spent with him, discussing his experiments. Gradually she confided her own ideas and ambitions.
Her confidence had grown so much that one day she summoned the courage to ask Alex whether she could buy a bolt of silk from the mill. The scraps and offcuts were no longer enough for her. She had bigger things in mind. When he agreed good-naturedly she seized the moment and asked if she could try some of the dyes they used in the mill. The craft shop in Colchester only stocked small quantities.
He smiled indulgently. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to take over the whole mill for your enterprise,’ he said with a laugh.
‘I wouldn’t mind just a little bit of it,’ she said, surprising herself. The idea had just that second popped into her head.
His eyebrows rose and for a fleeting second she thought his eyes hardened to that flinty greyness she’d seen before when he was angry. Perhaps she’d gone too far. But he laughed and said ‘Perhaps we could discuss it over dinner.’
She laughed too, then realized he was serious. Her stomach fluttered a little at the thought of going out with the boss. But it would be a chance to discuss what she wanted to do – purely business of course – and he might be able to help. She wondered fleetingly what her workmates would think. But it was none of their business. Swallowing her misgivings, she smiled and agreed when Alex arranged to pick her up from the cottage later that evening.
‘I’ll deliver the silk and the dyes at the same time,’ he said. And Ellie relaxed. Alex was a businessman and she was not only a colleague, but a customer now.
When she told Norah she was going out with Alex that evening, the little woman couldn’t hide her pleasure. ‘You deserve an outing – but what will you wear, love?’
Ellie hadn’t given it a thought. Despite her flair for design and her interest in fabric and colour, she rarely thought about clothes for herself. She had her serviceable dark-blue costume and a selection of smart blouses that she wore for work, a couple of summer dresses and cardigans. And that was it.
‘I’ll just wear my blue cotton dress with my costume jacket. That’ll look OK,’ she said. After all, it wasn’t a proper date.
Norah wasn’t so sure. ‘He might take you somewhere posh. You don’t want to let him down.’ She disappeared, leaving Ellie to survey her meagre wardrobe. In seconds she was back, a long midnight-blue dress over her arm. ‘I haven’t worn this since Bob died,’ she said, holding it up against Ellie. ‘Good job you’re slim round the hips.’ She indicated her flat chest with a laugh. ‘I had a bit more up top in those days too, so it should fit. Try it on, love.’
After a token protest Ellie slipped the dress over her head, smoothing it down over her hips. She was a lot taller than Norah and the soft folds of the chiffon layers reached only halfway between her knee and her ankle.
‘That looks lovely, Ellie,’ Norah said, stepping back and surveying the girl with satisfaction. ‘It could have been made for you. Even the length’s right – they don’t go in for full-length dresses so much nowadays.’
Ellie went through to Norah’s room to look at herself in the wardrobe mirror. She felt a bit overdressed but, she had to admit, the colour suited her and with her hair washed and curled and a little bit of powder and lipstick, she’d do.
Norah was standing behind her and Ellie smiled at her reflection. But the image wavered and, in its place she could see her mother’s proud face, telling her how grown-up she looked all decked out in her finery for the opening of Tommy’s Paradise Club. That was the last time she’d seen Mum, apart from that one brief glimpse at the hospital just after Gran had died.
She gave a little gasp and tears spilled through her fingers as she covered her face with her hands. She sank on to the edge of Norah’s bed, leaning against the little woman, whose arms comforted her as she sobbed.
Norah was still patting her back, murmuring meaningless words, as the last of her tears were shed. She was still shaking but she sat up straight and tried to smile. ‘Don’t know what got into me – it was the dress. It reminded me….’
‘You don’t have to tell me, love. I know from the little you’ve let slip that you had a hard time at home. But that’s all behind you now.’ She patted Ellie’s back, then stood up. ‘Wash your face and let me do your hair for you. Mr Cameron will be here soon.’
‘But I can’t wear this dress’ – Ellie almost started to sob again – ‘and I can’t go out with him.’
‘Don’t be silly, girl. You can’t spend the rest of your life shut away here with just an old woman for company. You’re young, with the rest of your life in front of you – and it’s time you started living it.’
Ellie almost managed to smile. ‘You’re not old,’ she said.
‘Go on with you.’ Norah gave her a little push.
As she sat at the dressing-table letting Norah brush and coax her hair into smooth waves, Ellie wondered if she was doing the
right thing. Maybe Norah was right and she should start living a little. She had tried to block out the past but it kept intruding – just little things would set her off. But wasn’t it time she began to accept that what had happened in the past was over? Bert could no longer hurt her. Neither he nor Tommy Green had any power over her. She could live her life as she pleased, work to fulfil the dreams she thought had been thwarted by her father’s selfishness. And if Alex Cameron could help her achieve her ambitions, what was wrong with that?
Ellie stood up and took her latest creation – a soft silk shawl painted in shades of blue – and threw it round her shoulders. A knock came at the door and she ran downstairs, pasting a smile on her lips.
When she opened the door she was glad she’d dressed up. Alex looked so smart in his dark dinner jacket, a snow-white shirt gleaming in the dark of the porch. At least she wouldn’t feel out of place.
The hotel restaurant was just as Ellie had imagined, tastefully decorated with low lighting and soft-footed waiters. At first she felt a bit nervous, but Alex was good company and she began to enjoy herself.
When he’d picked her up at the cottage, looking her up and down with frank admiration, she’d been a little wary, wondering whether she’d have to spend the evening fending off unwanted advances. But she saw him every day at work. Surely he’d have made a move before now, if he was that sort of man.
As the meal progressed she relaxed, reminding herself that he’d only taken her out so that they could talk about her ideas for expanding her ‘cottage industry’ as he called it. As they waited for dessert she swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘We were going to talk about my business,’ she said.
‘I have something to discuss too,’ he said, smiling. ‘But you go first. What can I do to help?’
‘I don’t have enough room at Norah’s. I was wondering if I could use one of the old outbuildings. I’d pay rent of course.’
‘You’re serious about this, then?’
‘I thought you realized that.’
‘Have you thought it through, though? For instance, what will you do if you get so many orders you can’t cope with them all?’ he asked.
At least he hadn’t laughed. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted, toying with her glass.
He leaned back and tapped his chin. ‘I have an idea. Why don’t you use screen printing instead of painting the scarves by hand. That way, you could produce them in bulk. I could sell them for you – I’ve plenty of contacts in the rag trade.’
‘It wouldn’t be the same,’ she said. ‘I want my designs to be unique – one-offs, exclusive.’
He didn’t seem to understand. ‘You won’t make much money doing it your way,’ he said.
‘It’s not about making money,’ she said.
His eyes hardened. ‘Being in business is all about making money,’ he said, pouring another glass of wine. As he lifted his glass the hard expression melted and he smiled. ‘Anyway, forget about business. That’s not why I asked you out.’
Her heart began to thump. Had she been wrong about him? She was so agitated that at first she didn’t take in what he was saying.
‘… buying a house, not far from the mill on the outskirts of the village. I’ve been too busy to think about moving till now. But if I’m going to settle in this part of the world, I can’t stay in those cramped rooms. I need somewhere for my books, to hang my paintings.’
She smiled nervously. What did this have to do with her?
He reached across and took her hand. ‘Ellie, would you share it with me?’ The pressure of his hand increased and he looked into her eyes. ‘I’m asking you to marry me.’
She stared at him, fighting the urge to giggle. It must be the wine. Surely he was joking. She’d never thought of him that way – not really – and it had never occurred to her that he might be in love with her.
He was looking at her intently, his grey eyes serious, but with a hint of laughter in them. Her hand still lay in his and, as she tried to pull away, his other hand covered it. He leaned towards her. ‘Say something, Ellie, please.’
She eventually managed to extricate herself and looked down at her plate, picking up her fork and pushing the food around. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said, her voice a low whisper.
‘Well at least you haven’t said an outright no,’ Alex replied with a little laugh. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. But you must know how I feel about you.’
‘But you’re my boss.’
‘More than just that, I hope.’
‘Well, I did think we were becoming friends. You’ve been so kind, helping me with my “cottage industry” as you call it.’ Ellie managed a little smile.
‘But I wouldn’t have done it for just anyone – it’s because I care about you.’
He hadn’t mentioned the word love, Ellie thought. But she didn’t love him, did she? So why was she even thinking about his proposal? Why hadn’t she just said ‘no’ straight away?
Alex seemed to sense her confusion. ‘You need time to think about it, don’t you? I’ll take you home now – we can talk again tomorrow.’
While he paid the bill, Ellie went into the ladies’ cloakroom. She looked into the mirror above the wash basin. Earlier, she had been flushed and hot. Now her skin was pale and there were shadows beneath her eyes, which looked enormous in her thin face. Her cloud of thick dark-brown hair reflected copper highlights from the harsh overhead light, making her seem even paler by contrast. For the first time for months she looked like the frightened waif she’d been when she ran away from home.
In the security of Norah and Trevor’s friendship, her sense of self worth had grown as she mastered her demanding job and rediscovered her artistic talent. Now, with those few seemingly careless words, Alex had undone all that. For with the mention of marriage had come the fear. She was fond of Alex but she didn’t love him – not in the way he deserved to be loved. The very thought of the intimacy that marriage demanded made her stomach churn with apprehension. Still, the temptation was there. Alex could offer her security, a home, maybe a family of her own one day. And maybe in time, she’d be able to overcome those feelings brought about by memories of what had been done to her as a child.
She splashed her face with cold water. It was no good. How could she even be thinking of accepting him? He was too nice a man to be used like that. Besides, he knew nothing about her – and she would have to tell him about her past. Although she had never told anybody why she had run away from home, she’d never lied about it. And Alex, of all people, deserved total honesty – that was, if she intended to accept his proposal.
On the drive home he didn’t refer to their earlier conversation, helping her out of the car and guiding her up the dark path in his usual courteous way. But as she went to open the front door, he pulled her round to face him.
‘I meant it, Ellie. I love you and I want to marry you. But I won’t press you for an answer. All I ask is that you think about it.’ He cupped her face in his hands and dropped a light kiss on her lips. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ he said, and walked quickly away down the path.
Alex sat in the car for some minutes before switching on the ignition and reversing out of the narrow lane. The evening hadn’t turned out a bit as he had planned. It was his own fault. He really should have given Ellie an indication of his feelings before just blurting out his proposal like that.
But he couldn’t help it and he had dared to hope that she felt more for him than just friendship. Maybe it wasn’t love – not yet. But already she turned to him for help, relied on his advice, appeared to enjoy his company. There was no one else in her life – of that he was certain. And, in time, he was sure he could make her love him – that is, if he hadn’t blown his chances already by his hasty action this evening.
His hands gripped the steering wheel and he put his foot down hard on the accelerator as he turned on to the main road. The need to concentrate as he sped through the dark night almost s
ucceeded in driving the tormented thoughts from his brain. But when he reached his lonely bachelor flat, he paced the two tiny rooms above the back-street tobacconist’s, unable to settle to sleep. Although he knew he would have to be up early the next morning to help Donald with the next batch of testing, he could not get Ellie’s face out of his mind.
He had noticed the brief glint of laughter in her brown eyes at the mention of marriage, quickly followed by a gasp of dismay. Had she really thought he would joke about such a thing? And when she realized he was serious, was it really such a dreadful prospect as to leave her so pale and distraught?
He groaned aloud. This was no good. He must get his thoughts under control. At work tomorrow he would have to face her, behave as if nothing were amiss. He had said he would give her time – and he meant it. But God, it would be hard to talk about orders and invoices, when all he wanted was to take her in his arms and feel her soft lips on his, her body moulding itself to his.
Alex drove to the mill through misty drizzle, his eyes gritty from lack of sleep, longing to see Ellie, yet almost dreading the moment when she would walk into the office. Would she wish him ‘good morning’ and sit at her desk with that brisk, efficient demeanour she usually exhibited during working hours? Or would she greet him with a dazzling smile and the confession that she had thought about his proposal and that the answer was ‘yes’?
Despite his sleepless night, he arrived early as he always did. Only Donald was there before him and before long they were both immersed in the work that until recently had occupied his every waking thought. But they were nearing the breakthrough, he was sure, and there would be more time in the future for his personal life. He would be able to court Ellie as she should be courted, to buy her flowers, take her out. If he was patient he knew he would win her in the end.
As he wound the new sample of thread on to the break-testing machine he tried to concentrate on the calibrations, but all he could think of was Ellie. He realized he knew very little about her, beyond her enthusiasm and capacity for hard work, as well as her undoubted artistic talent. He knew she had worked in the café before moving in with Norah and coming to work at Turner’s. But she never spoke of her life before that. Although she was usually bright and vivacious, he had sometimes caught her in an unguarded moment, her eyes clouded and inward looking, and he guessed that she had not always had a happy life. Well, he would change all that. If he had anything to do with it, she would never want for anything again.
Threads of Silk Page 17