‘That’s what I wanted too, Alex, truly.’
He turned to face her, his eyes bleak. ‘If only….’ His voice trailed away.
‘If only our child had lived, you mean. Don’t you think I’ve thought the same thing over and over these past months? But, Alex – we have to move on. We’ve got to decide what we both want in the future.’ Or even if we have a future together, she thought.
Alex paced the room, struggling for words while she sat on the bed watching him. Then he turned to face her. ‘I think it would be best if I moved out for a while – give us time to think things over,’ he said.
Ellie didn’t try to dissuade him. ‘Will you go to her?’ she asked calmly.
‘She’s in Manchester,’ he said.
‘It’s late, you don’t have to go tonight. We’ll sort it out in the morning.’ Suddenly Ellie felt worn out by her emotions. She wouldn’t need any pills tonight.
When she woke it was almost daylight, the birds outside chattering their dawn chorus. She felt surprisingly refreshed especially when she realized how early it was.
The door to Alex’s room was closed and she wondered whether he’d packed and left during the night. Suddenly she just didn’t care any more. He could go or stay – she would be the one to leave.
She showered and dressed in a light summer dress and sandals. Packing a small case, she decided to leave behind the expensive silk underwear, the mink coat and the jewellery that Alex had lavished on her in the early days of her marriage.
It was still early, the sun scarcely showing above the hedgerows. Trevor and Norah wouldn’t mind her turning up unannounced, but she couldn’t arrive at this unearthly hour – they would scarcely be out of bed. She went across the yard to the studio and gathered up her paints and brushes, her book of sketches and a few lengths of silk. She would need something to keep her busy, maybe even to earn money. She had no intention of asking Alex for help.
Taking a last look round the studio, the place she’d been happiest during her life at Withies Farm, she realized guiltily that she’d neglected her clients over the past few months. It would take time to regain their confidence.
She hadn’t driven her Morris Minor for months. But Alex had always made sure it was regularly serviced and the petrol tank topped up. She drove down the lane and through the village towards Chelmsford, intending to turn on to the Al2 and make for Southwold. But when she reached the main road she changed her mind. Turning right, she was soon speeding in the direction of London.
As she drove slowly along Roman Road and turned into Kendall Street, she gasped in shock. Her old home was just a pile of dusty bricks, surrounded by a sagging wooden fence. Bulldozers roared and, above the noise of the machinery, men shouted. A group of children screamed in delight as the wrecking ball ploughed into the next house.
Where were her mother and Harry? Still dreading repercussions from the fight with Bert – not for herself, but for the distress it would cause her mother – she was reluctant to ask the neighbours.
Seeing the wreck of her former home, she realized that Mum had probably never received her letter. But why had neither she nor Harry tried to communicate? Perhaps they didn’t want to know her any more.
Should she just turn round and drive back to East Anglia? No. She had to find them.
In the old days she’d have run to Sid Varney and she swallowed a sob as the reality of his death struck home. The other market-traders might be able to help, but suppose they thought she was responsible for her father’s death? She could try the council office, but there might be questions there too.
The smell of brick-and-mortar dust from the demolition reached her, bringing back memories of playing on the bombsite near Gran’s house. Thinking of Gran brought another muffled sob, but it also reminded her of Auntie Vi. Surely she’d know Mum’s new address. The blocks of flats all looked the same, gleaming white and pale gold in the spring sunshine, some of them with brightly painted balconies. Which one was Auntie Vi’s? In the old days, everyone had known everyone else. But things had changed and no one remembered her. With a resigned sigh Ellie knew she’d have to give up. At least she’d tried. Now, all she could do was make the long trip to Southwold – or go home to Withies Farm and try to patch things up with Alex.
As she drove back towards the market, the smell of frying bacon drifted through the open car window, reminding her that she’d had nothing to eat or drink today. But, hungry as she was, she couldn’t go in Bob’s café or Al’s pie-and-mash shop; she’d be unable to face the inevitable questions if anyone recognized her.
Regretfully passing the scenes of childhood treats, Ellie drove towards Victoria Park. She remembered a pub on the corner near the park – far enough away for her to be reasonably sure she would meet no one she knew.
Harry stopped the car at the entrance to Withies Farm and turned to Mary. ‘There’s a car in the drive. Someone must be in.’
Mary gripped her handbag, her face strained. ‘I’ll wait here, if you don’t mind.’ She’d been very quiet on the long drive and Harry wondered whether she was regretting her impulse to come with him.
‘I won’t be long,’ Harry assured her. ‘When I find out what hospital she’s in, we’ll go straight there. I won’t let him fob me off any more.’
He marched up the drive and rang the bell, keeping his finger on it until he saw a shadow moving behind the glass panels. As the door opened, he glanced back and gave Mary a reassuring wave.
‘Well, what do you want?’ The voice was slurred.
‘Mr Cameron, I’m here to see Ellie – er, Helen, your wife.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You see, I’m her brother and we’re worried about her. When I spoke to you on the telephone you said she’d been ill….’
‘My wife has no family,’ Alex said. ‘I don’t know what you’re playing at—’ He made to shut the door but Harry stuck his foot out. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Cameron. I must insist on seeing her – to reassure Ellie’s mother that she’s all right.’
‘What are you implying?’ Alex leaned towards Harry and pushed him in the chest. His eyes were bloodshot and Harry smelt alcohol on his breath.
He stood firm. ‘I demand to see Ellie.’
‘She’s not here,’ Alex said.
‘Well, tell me what hospital she’s in. We’ll go and see her there. Despite you telling me she’s not allowed visitors, which I don’t believe for one minute, I’m sure they’ll let her mother in.’
Alex looked bewildered. ‘I keep telling you – my wife has no family. I don’t understand.’ His shoulders slumped and he sighed. ‘When I say she’s not here, I mean she’s gone – left me. Didn’t even leave a note. We had words….’
‘Well, do you have any idea where she is?’
‘How would I know?’ Alex snapped, slamming the door in Harry’s face.
Harry stood for a moment, wondering whether it was worth ringing the bell again. But the man had obviously been drinking – he wouldn’t get any sense out of him. He trudged down the drive, wondering what to tell Mary. She’d been determined to see Ellie and reassure her that she wasn’t to blame for Bert’s injury.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The inside of the pub was cool and dim. They’d only just opened and Ellie was the only customer. The barman looked her up and down and finished polishing the glass in his hand before getting the shandy and the ham sandwich she ordered.
She took her food and drink to a table in the corner and, as she sat down, a man came in. The barman jerked his head in Ellie’s direction. Perhaps a woman alone was a rare sight in this pub. She tried to concentrate on her food, until she noticed the man staring. He got up and walked over to the table.
‘Don’t I know you?’ he said.
‘I don’t think so. I don’t live round here.’
The man snapped his fingers. ‘I know – you’re Bert Tyler’s gel, ain’t yer?’
Ellie froze, the glass halfway to her lips. She didn’t know him and she was surprised he’d recog
nized her. Should she deny it – or brazen things out? She took a sip of her drink and put the glass down carefully.
The man pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘I remember – right little looker you was – still are.’ He grinned and Ellie stared coldly at him. ‘You worked at that club of Tommy’s up West. Bert was mad as hell when you took off. Said you’d had a better offer up north.’ He swigged his beer, laughing. ‘I could make you an offer.’
Raging inwardly at the suggestiveness in his voice, Ellie kept her voice steady, even managing a small smile. ‘I doubt it,’ she said.
He laughed again. ‘Yeah, Bert always said you fancied yourself too good for the likes of us round ’ere. Oh well, can’t blame me for trying.’
Ellie pushed the plate away and drained her glass. As she stood up he leered at her. ‘Well, nice meetin’ you again. I expect you’re off to see the old man now. Shame about him an’ Mary splittin’ up. Still, I expect she’s well settled in her new place. And knowin’ Bert, he couldn’t ’ave bin easy to live with.’
Ellie’s heart began to thump and her palms were wet. Bert was alive, the fall hadn’t killed him. All these months she’d blamed herself for his death – told herself losing her baby was a just punishment. Now, all the old hatred welled up. She still wasn’t free of him. She sat down again and forced a smile. ‘I’d like another shandy, please,’ she said.
He grinned and went over to the bar. She took a few deep breaths, watching as he and the barman sniggered together. He obviously thought she was a pushover and, once she’d found out what she wanted to know, she’d have to get rid of him.
When he came back and put the drinks on the table she smiled up at him and took a sip of shandy. ‘If you’re mates with my dad I expect you know we fell out. He said I’d let him down,’ she said.
‘I gathered something of the kind. Well, yer can’t blame him really. He was so sure you’d come up with the goods and Tommy had a lot of money invested in that club. He was bankin’ on you to bring the punters in.’
Ellie nodded as if in agreement. ‘I felt really bad about it – that’s why I’ve come back. I want to make it up with him. But the old house is gone and I don’t have a new address. Maybe you can help?’ She smiled at him over her glass.
Leering, he leaned across the table and patted her hand. ‘Always glad to help a lady in distress,’ he said. ‘Well, as I said, your mum and dad split up. Mary’s gone down to Grays with young ’Arry. You must’ve ’eard that Sid Varney died and left him some money. Doin’ well for ’imself, ’e is – got his own car-repair business.’ There was a trace of envy in his voice.
‘So where is my father living then?’
‘He moved in with yer sister fer a while, then Tommy found him a little flat. Not sure of the address but you can ask Tommy. ’E’ll be in later.’
Ellie forced herself to stay calm. She had no wish to confront her brother-in-law but she had to find out a bit more before she made her escape.
‘And how is my dad these days? Fit and well?’ she asked.
‘Well, ’e was a bit brassed off having to walk around with ’is arm in plaster. It took weeks to heal and he couldn’t drive or nothin’. But ’e’s OK now.’
‘What happened?’ Ellie held her breath for his answer.
‘Silly sod fell downstairs – drunk as usual, I dare say.’ Bert’s mate laughed. ‘Serve ’im right, I say.’
Ellie couldn’t agree more, but her relief that she hadn’t killed him far outweighed any other emotion.
Someone came into the bar and she ducked her head, hoping Tommy Green hadn’t turned up already. She’d have to get away, but how? Her companion wouldn’t let her go so easily after buying her a drink.
She picked up her handbag. ‘Where’s the ladies?’ she asked.
He nodded to a door in the corner. She crossed the room and turned to smile at him. Let him think she was coming back. She ignored the two toilet doors and opened one marked private at the end of the passage. It gave on to a small storeroom and, as she’d guessed there was an exit into the yard at the side of the pub.
Slipping quickly through the gate, she crossed the road and jumped into the Morris. Bert’s mate would probably relay their meeting to Tommy and word was sure to get back to her father that she was back in London. But she didn’t care. She had all the clues she needed to find her mother and Harry.
With the burden of guilt over her father’s fate removed, Ellie felt almost light-hearted. Her earlier despair had vanished and she was confident that she and her mother would be reunited before the day was out. She was also sure they’d have an explanation for why they hadn’t been in touch. Her main worry now was how she’d hide her feelings for Harry when at last she came face to face with his wife.
On the outskirts of Grays, she was bewildered by the profusion of busy main roads, the signs for the new Dartford tunnel and new houses going up everywhere. She’d never find them, she thought with a sob, as she stopped at yet another set of traffic lights.
Well, she wasn’t going to give up now. She drove back along the main road towards Southend, passing a small parade of shops built in mock Tudor style. At the end of the row she saw an Esso sign and a petrol pump with a large workshop behind it. Next door to the garage was a bay-windowed thirties-style house set back off the road.
Was this it? As Ellie drove on to the forecourt and parked near the pump, her mouth was dry, her hands perspiring on the wheel. A thin elderly man with a drooping moustache came out of the workshop, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. Ellie let out her breath in disappointment. As the old man replaced the petrol cap and took her money, she summoned up her courage. ‘Does Mr Scott own this place now?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, Nobby Barnes retired a few months ago.’
It was the right place. Taking a deep breath Ellie asked if she could speak to Mr Scott.
‘He’s gone out somewhere – said he might be gone all day. But if yer car needs something doing I can get Stan to have a look.’ He gave her change and, without waiting for a reply, shouted over his shoulder.
‘Put yer car over there,’ he said, pointing. ‘Stan’ll be out in half a mo.’
A car behind her tooted and Ellie drove across the forecourt, parking near the entrance to the workshop.
Stan, a stocky middle-aged man came out, blinking in the sunshine. ‘What’s the trouble?’ he asked.
Ellie smiled, a little embarrassed. ‘I’m afraid the other man misunderstood. There’s nothing wrong with my car. I wanted to see Mr Scott.’
‘Well, you can wait if you like – but I don’t know when he’ll be back.’ He made to turn away but she detained him.
‘It looks as if you’re busy,’ she said.
Too busy to stand talking to you, Stan’s look said, and Ellie quickly apologized. ‘I didn’t mean to keep you from your work, but I really do need to see Harry – Mrs Tyler too. I went to their old house in London and was told they’d moved out here.’
Stan looked at her sharply. ‘You wouldn’t be Ellie by any chance?’
She held her breath.
‘Well, blow me. Mary’s been real worried about you, my girl. Why ’aven’t you bin in touch?’ he asked.
‘I’ve been ill,’ Ellie said. She didn’t feel up to giving a detailed explanation.
‘I knew it. Well, they’ll be chuffed to bits when they get back.’ Stan beckoned her inside. ‘You’d better come and wait in the office.’
Ellie followed him into the dim interior, Stan warning her to be careful and steering her round the piles of old tyres and boxes of tools and spares. She stepped over a pair of legs clad in an oily blue boiler suit projecting from beneath a car. Harry must be doing all right if he was employing three people and could afford to take a day off in the middle of the week.
Stan showed her into the cluttered cubicle which served as an office and she wandered round, running her hands over the filing cabinet, the scuffed wooden desk, feeling a little thrill at the thought of Harry being here.
Stan returned with a mug of tea and told her they shouldn’t be long. She was surprised Mary had gone with Harry and his wife. She’d understood they didn’t get on.
‘Does Harry’s wife help in the office?’ she asked.
Stan looked puzzled. ‘Harry ain’t got a wife – leastways he didn’t ’ave when he moved in ’ere.’ He gave a little chuckle and went back to his work.
Ellie’s heart started a slow thick thumping, as if her blood had stopped moving round her veins. No wife? That couldn’t be right. Maybe she’d gone back to Germany on a visit.
While she waited she poked around on Harry’s desk, suddenly spotting her own phone number on a scrap of paper. The numbers were surrounded by doodles as if he’d sat here for some time waiting for an answer.
Her heart lifted and her lips curved in a smile. So he had been trying to get in touch. She wondered when he’d phoned and the suspicion that Alex hadn’t been passing on messages returned. She sighed, trying not to think of Alex and their confrontation the previous evening.
Noises from the workshop told her that Stan and the denim-clad youth were busy and, reluctant to disturb them, she wandered outside, walking down the narrow alley between the garage and the house next door. Stan had told her that that was where Harry and her mother now lived. It was a pleasant-looking house with French windows giving on to the tangled back garden, and a bay window at the front. Compared with Withies Farm with its unused rooms, outbuildings and well-tended grounds, this house seemed quite ordinary. But, reflected Ellie, it was probably more of a home than the farmhouse would ever be.
She leaned on the fence, lost in thought, until the sound of an old van clanking to a halt outside the garage brought her round the side of the workshop in a rush.
They didn’t see her and she stopped, suddenly shy. What was she going to say to them, how explain her silence over the past few weeks? She could hardly tell them she’d thought Bert was dead.
Threads of Silk Page 27