A Woman's Fortune

by Josephine Cox

  ‘And I think we ought to finish for today,’ said Evie. The argument with her dad had left her feeling upset and now the discussion about Sue’s eyes was adding to her worries.

  Michael ate a pie and washed it down with a few pints of beer. At first some people he knew were at the bar and he forgot his anger with Evie and Sue as he chatted with them, but after a while they drifted off, leaving him with his bitter thoughts. He looked out for Jack, but Jack was seldom in the pub these days. Michael took himself into a corner with the Redmond Gazette.

  That was a mistake. On the first inside spread was a round-up of recent events in the town. There, looking beautiful and wearing a very fitted dress, was Jeanie! His wife, pictured in the newspaper, smiling into the camera, holding a glass of what looked like wine. And next to her, of course, was that bastard Bailey she’d gone off with. The contrast between this Jeanie and the wife he’d recalled only an hour or two ago – the woman who took in washing and cooked his tea – was overwhelming.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Frederick Bailey’ read the caption. Michael could hardly believe his eyes. That woman was not Mrs Frederick Bailey and she never would be. ‘Mrs Frederick Bailey’ indeed! The nerve of the man. Or maybe that was what Jeanie was calling herself these days, trying to pass herself off as a respectable married woman instead of a hussy who’d upped and left her husband and children and taken up with the fella whose cleaner she was. She was behaving as if he’d never existed! Well, it was time Jeanie Carter remembered who she was and where she came from.

  Michael scraped back his chair, knocking the table and slopping beer over it. He tucked the offending newspaper into his jacket pocket as fuel to his anger and lurched out into the autumn night.

  ‘Mrs Frederick Bailey indeed …’ Muttering, Michael wove his way down the road back to Pendle’s. Except it wasn’t Pendle’s any more, it was Goodwin and Carter, Dressmakers. He’d done nothing to deserve this, nothing at all. Well, he was going to put a stop to Jeanie Carter gallivanting about Redmond, making out she was summat she wasn’t.

  He opened the side gate and sent it crashing into the wall, then lumbered down the side passage to collect his bicycle from the backyard.

  The kitchen was lit up and Michael could see Evie and Sue sitting at the table, eating, but he grabbed his bike without acknowledging them and, with just one failed attempt, wheeled it down the side of the building and out to the street.

  Evie rushed out of the front door as he emerged.

  ‘Dad, what on earth are you doing? Where are you going?’

  ‘I’m off to get your mother,’ he slurred. ‘I’ve had enough.’

  ‘What are you talking about? You can’t bring Mum home on a bicycle. Come inside, Dad, and tell us what’s wrong.’

  ‘Perishing women, that’s what’s wrong,’ he hissed. ‘You’re all as bad. Your mother—’

  ‘What? Dad, please, come in and tell us.’

  Sue came up behind Evie. ‘Come inside and sober up. You can’t go anywhere like that,’ she called over Evie’s shoulder.

  Michael ignored her and pushed off on his bicycle, starting to wobble his way past the front of the shop.

  Evie stepped out to grab him and ran after him but in two turns of the wheel he was away and she was left behind.

  ‘Dad! Dad! Come back, please,’ she called, but he didn’t even look back.

  ‘Where’s he going?’ asked Sue. ‘Not far in that state, I should think.’

  ‘He says he’s going to get Mum,’ Evie answered. ‘He’s so angry.’

  ‘What’s that there?’ said Sue. She pointed to a newspaper lying on the pavement by the side gate. Evie picked it up. ‘You look, love. I can’t see nowt in the dark.’

  ‘It’s the local paper.’

  They went into the kitchen and spread the newspaper on the table. Sue put on her reading glasses and in no time they both saw the photograph of Jeanie and Frederick, and read the caption.

  ‘Oh Lord, and Dad said he’s going to Redmond to get her,’ gasped Evie.

  ‘He’ll never get there in that state,’ said Sue. She spoke confidently but they looked at each other worriedly.

  ‘I think I’d better telephone Mum and Frederick and warn them about Dad,’ said Evie. ‘He’s so mad that I’m really worried. I don’t want Mum being upset.’

  ‘Good idea, love, just in case.’

  They went into the workroom and Evie dialled the number.

  ‘Redmond 786,’ said Jeanie. ‘… Oh, hello, love. You sound a bit bothered – are you all right?’

  ‘No, Mum. Dad’s been in the pub all evening and now he’s drunk and he says he’s coming to get you. He saw a photo of you in the Gazette, calling you “Mrs Frederick Bailey” and we think that’s what’s got him in such a fury. He’s set off on his bike, but he’s very wobbly. Grandma and I think mebbe he won’t make it and he’ll see sense and have to turn back, but then I’m worried that he might reach you, and he’ll do something awful. He’s ever so angry, Mum.’

  ‘Oh, no … oh dear. I’ve never said that was my name. Freddie’s not here now. He’s gone to Jack’s.’

  ‘I reckon you should call him and ask him to come back, Mum. I don’t want you to have to cope with Dad on your own.’

  ‘Yes, love. I’ll do that. If your dad does get here, Freddie will deal with him and send him home. Thank you for warning me. You’re a good girl. Don’t worry, Evie.’

  She rang off and Evie told Sue what Jeanie had said. Then she made a pot of tea and they sat and waited anxiously to see what would happen next.

  Michael was hot with anger as he pedalled out of Church Sandleton and onto the Redmond road. Once he was out of the village there were no streetlamps to light the way, but the moon was bright in a clear sky and he could find his way with his eyes shut.

  The countryside was fairly flat and the road a good one so he made fast progress despite sometimes weaving across to the right. One time a car approached from behind and passed him, the driver slowing down and pulling out to allow Michael his wobbly progress. Then a car came towards him and hooted. Michael hadn’t realised he was so close to the other side and he moved back to the left.

  ‘Bloody women …’ he muttered. ‘Mrs Frederick Bailey … Thinks she’s too good for the likes of me these days …’ He ranted on, pedalling faster, furiously, carelessly. He was approaching Redmond now – he could see streetlights in the distance.

  Another car approached behind, headlights illuminating the empty road ahead. Michael tried to steer to the side but he seemed suddenly to be a long way from the verge. He wobbled on, thinking the car would pull out but it moved ever closer. Then suddenly it was right behind. Then next instant it had clipped the back wheel of Michael’s unlit bike and sent him somersaulting off the road and into the ditch beyond the verge as it sped away.

  The ditch was deep and Michael landed heavily on his back, the bicycle coming to rest in a tangle of spinning wheels on top of him. The last thing he heard was the sound of the car’s engine fading into the distance. Lying in the ditch, he looked up and saw the huge white and grey moon above. It looked very distant and very cold. The road was now completely silent. Then the image of the moon faded from his sight and he felt darkness closing in around him.

  After a fitful night’s sleep, Evie awoke and took a few moments to remember that Michael had set off for Redmond and she hadn’t heard him return. She went to see if he was in bed, but the blankets were pulled over and it looked as if the bed hadn’t been slept in. She went downstairs to see if there was any sign of him there, but the kitchen was exactly as she’d left it the night before.

  Oh Lord, what to do now?

  She put the kettle to boil while she tried to have a sensible think, then took a cup of tea up to Sue.

  ‘Grandma? Here, I’ve brought you some tea. There’s no sign of Dad. I think summat might have happened to him. Should I call the police?’

  ‘You sure he’s not gone to work?’

  Evie explained. ‘I�
��m worried he’s had an accident, Grandma.’

  ‘Mmm, it doesn’t sound good, love. Yes, better call the police. Do you want me to do it?’

  ‘No, Grandma. I will while you get up.’

  ‘Think carefully what we know, love, ’cos they’re bound to ask you about the time he left and what he was wearing and that.’

  Evie went back down to telephone and recited all the facts as carefully as she could. By then she was tearful and fearing the worst, though the policeman she spoke to was sympathetic and reassuring. He took the address and telephone number and promised to be in touch as soon as he could.

  It was mid-morning, and neither Evie nor Sue had got much work done, when a black police car drew up outside. The women looked at each other and Evie felt her heart sink as two policemen got out of the car. Evie sprang up and ran to the door.

  ‘It’s bad news, isn’t it?’ she gasped. ‘I knew it! I should have tried harder to stop him setting off on his bike like that.’

  ‘Miss Carter?’ asked the older policeman. They both removed their hats as they came into the workroom. ‘And you are Mrs …?’

  ‘Goodwin,’ said Sue. ‘I’m Evelyn’s grandma and Michael Carter’s mother-in-law. Tell us, Sergeant, what’s the news?’

  ‘We think we’ve found Michael Carter, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come with us to the hospital. It’s bad news.’

  Sue guessed what was coming but she had to be sure. ‘He’s dead?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m afraid so. But we need to be certain it is him.’

  ‘No!’ wailed Evie. ‘Not Dad as well! Oh, I can’t bear it, I just can’t bear it …’ and she sank to the floor, sobbing loudly, tears streaming down her face, and wouldn’t be comforted.

  Eventually, Sue asked the younger policeman if he’d mind going to Lavender Cottage at the other end of the High Street to fetch their friends so that she could leave Evie and go with the police to the cottage hospital in Redmond.

  It wasn’t until Margaret and Letty arrived, full of compassion and common sense, that Sue was able to set off on her grim task. As she looped her handbag over her arm and stepped through the front door, she turned the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’.

  Goodwin and Carter would remain closed for many days.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘I think, Evie,’ said Sue, ‘that it’s high time you got back on your feet. I don’t want to sound hard, my girl, but I reckon you might find doing a bit of work will take your mind off your sorrows.’

  ‘I don’t know, Grandma … It’s all such a big effort, and I feel so exhausted. Bob’s dead and Mum’s gone, and Pete’s not here any longer either, and now Dad’s dead, too. There’s only us left, Grandma. I don’t think I can ever be happy again. What if summat were to happen to you? I’d be all by myself and I don’t know how I could manage.’

  ‘Nonsense. There’s nowt going to happen to me. It’s a bad do about your dad, and it were worse about little Bob, but you can’t let your life be all about. We all lose people we love, you know that, but we have to go on without them. Look how you pulled us up after Bob died. You did it then and you can do it now. Come on, love, up you get and come and get summat done. I need you in that workroom.’

  Evie sighed heavily. ‘But it all seems so pointless. What does it matter what the stupid buttons are like when everyone I love is dead or gone?’

  ‘Now listen, Evie,’ said Sue sternly, sitting down on the edge of Evie’s bed, where Evie had spent much of the time since Michael’s funeral, a week previously, ‘it’s them clothes what pays our bills. Our bills, Evie. Yours and mine. You can’t give up and leave me to do it all – my eyes are failing and I need you.’ Sue was finding it increasingly hard to focus properly on the finer sewing. ‘We haven’t got your dad’s wages now so we’re relying entirely on ourselves. Don’t let me down.’

  Tears sprang to Evie’s eyes, as they did so frequently these days. ‘Please, Grandma, just let me be. Give me a bit longer to get over Dad.’

  ‘No.’ Sue stood up and wagged a strict finger at Evie, her face fierce behind her glasses. ‘If you stay here nursing your sorrows any longer you’ll find it’s become a habit and you’ll never get up. I want you washed and downstairs in ten minutes.’

  ‘No, Grandma, please …’ Evie wailed.

  ‘And if you’re not then I shall come back up here and drag you out, do you hear?’

  Evie sank down in her bed and threw the covers back over her head.

  ‘Ten minutes,’ said Sue, and went down to put the kettle to boil. Every situation could be eased with a cup of tea.

  Soon Sue could hear Evie moving about. Eventually she clumped downstairs, looking red-eyed and thin.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Sue with an encouraging smile. ‘Here, there’s a cup of tea for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Grandma.’

  ‘You know, Peter’s been going to school all this time and trying to carry on as usual. He’s not given in to grieving.’

  ‘Pete didn’t even like Dad.’

  ‘I think,’ said Sue carefully, ‘you’ll find that’s not entirely true. He’s been busier than ever with the band, too, and they’ve all sorts of concerts lined up. It’s his way of coping, and if you ask me it’s a good ’un.’

  ‘S’pose …’

  ‘Now go and get started and we’ll see what we can manage this morning. I shall be glad to have someone else in the sewing room. It’s been a bit lonely there all by myself.’

  Evie knew Sue was trying to jolly her along. When news had got out of Michael’s accident there had been a stream of visitors bringing their condolences, leaving posies of late flowers, dropping by with cards, some with cakes they’d baked. Michael himself had not had many friends in the village but Sue Goodwin and her granddaughter were popular. Even Mr Clackett had come over with a box of vegetables and a few kind words about Michael, which had made Sue laugh hollowly after he’d gone.

  Evie and Sue worked all morning. Already she had assumed her lifetime habit of watching the pennies, reining in on any extras. Most evenings it was vegetable soup and bread with no butter for their tea. Biscuits, and sugar in the tea, were things of the past.

  Gradually, over the following weeks, Evie pulled herself out of her sadness and – Sue was right – the work helped a lot. Yet she felt she was marking time, waiting for something to happen. She hadn’t the inclination to see a way forward and make a move herself. As so often since meeting Mrs Russell on the train to Manchester, she remembered how that kindly lady had made positive decisions that led her to a new and better life.

  But what am I even deciding about? Where do I go from here? Do I even want to go on with hardly any of my family around me?

  ‘You know, Grandma,’ she said one afternoon, while she was stitching some beading to Letty’s wedding dress and Sue was leaning as best she could over the table, cutting out pattern pieces, ‘I once thought that if we could get the sewing business up and running I’d never want for anything again. I saw no further than that. I thought that would be it – all I could possibly need in life.’

  ‘Did you, love?’ Sue stopped and stretched her back, regarding Evie seriously. ‘I don’t think that life is quite like that.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right.’

  ‘We always need more work, though.’ Sue thought of the bare kitchen cupboard and how grateful she’d felt to Mr Clackett for the box of vegetables, which had lasted a good few days.

  ‘Of course, but we’re here, people know that, and we can put an advertisement in the Gazette or summat if we need new clients. But I can’t see what happens next.’

  ‘Well, that’s what it’s like in this kind of business, love. The work gets finished and then we have to look for summat else to take its place. You know that. We have to keep going because otherwise we’d run out of money – and soon, too.’

  Just then the phone rang and Evie went to answer it.

  ‘Evie, my dear. I haven’t wanted to bother you too
much lately, what with all you’ve had on your mind, but I wonder if you’d like to come round to tea again?’

  ‘George, that’s a kind offer but I’m not sure I’m very good company at the moment.’

  ‘You don’t have to put up a front among friends, you know. I’d love it if you felt you could visit.’

  Evie thought quickly. A few minutes ago she’d been thinking that she was waiting for something to happen with her life – well, nothing ever would if she never left the workroom.

  ‘Thank you, George. I’ll be in Kingsford on Sunday at the usual time, shall I?’

  After the first outing to see George, Evie felt better. She enjoyed putting on a pretty dress and her lipstick, making an effort after languishing in bed in her pyjamas for so many days, consumed with misery, then keeping a low profile in the workroom. Her weekly visits to see George were resumed, although sometimes on the train home afterwards her thoughts would turn to Michael, her heart would fill with grief and she’d cry quietly, feeling suddenly lonely and bereft. But as the weeks went by and Christmas approached, these moments of intense sadness became fewer.

  She and Sue had found a few more jobs, and the work was a huge relief. It had been famine and feast since Michael’s death – not enough money coming in, or now two of them working flat out – and since Sue had acknowledged the limits of her sight for fine sewing Evie was working very hard for long hours at her sewing machine. But the mood in the workroom had lifted, and Evie looked forward to her Sundays off, visiting George. Sue insisted that she stopped working for one day a week, and she herself either had a nap or went to visit Margaret while Evie was in Kingsford.

  Often on the way home Evie would go to see her mother before catching the bus to Church Sandleton.

  ‘What’s happened to your car, Frederick?’ Evie asked the first week, when he offered to drive her. She was opening the passenger door and noticed some scratches and a dent on the front wing.

  ‘What? Let me have a look …’ He peered at the slight damage in the dim light of the winter dusk. ‘Must have caught it on the side of the garage or something. I hadn’t realised. I’ll take it to be repaired. There’s a good man in Kingsford who can fix it for me …’