by Anne Bennett
But then she heard a new note in his voice. He described his meeting with Angela and she saw the light dance in his eyes as he described her beauty and simplicity and Marian knew her son was smitten by this girl, this Angela Bradley, and a stab of jealousy pierced her. She crushed it down. What was the point of her being jealous of the girl her son had chosen? Maybe she would be the one who could help him afterwards. She’d have to see the girl, assess her. She reached for her son’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m happy for you,’ she said. ‘All your life all I’ve ever wanted is your happiness. This girl seems really important to you.’
‘Oh she is, Mother,’ Matthew replied eagerly, marvelling at how well his mother had taken the news, for he knew many mothers were jealous of their sons’ girlfriends. He’d never had anyone serious before, but he’d heard the chaps at school talk about it and even those at uni.
‘And now,’ Marian said, ‘I’d like to meet her.’
‘Oh you will, Mother,’ Matthew assured her. ‘And I’m sure you’ll love her like I do. She’s speaking to her father tonight and she’ll phone me when it’s time for me to go round and see him.’
Marian watched her son leave the room shortly afterwards with a spring in his step. Oh, let her be the one, she prayed, I know he’s young, they’re both young, but time isn’t something I have a lot of. If I could see him settled, I’d die with an easier mind.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Matthew had been very nervous meeting Arthur for the first time. Angela had explained about his possessiveness and he knew few fathers think any boy good enough for their daughter. He took care with his appearance that night. He wore a dark blue suit – not his usual style, but he thought the occasion warranted it – first impressions were everything.
Arthur was impressed. The boy, for that’s all he was, wore the suit well and the pure white silk shirt beneath it. The striped blue tie matched the handkerchief in his pocket and if he was any judge, the cuff links and tie stud were solid gold and his black shoes shone so you could imagine you’d see your face in them.
This young man he knew was no riffraff and better than he could have hoped for Angela to hook. Not that she didn’t have the looks, but looks weren’t everything and he knew her behaviour hadn’t been the best. Thank goodness that Hillary had come up tops in the end, he thought, and introduced Angela to the right kind of people. ‘Smoke?’ he asked Matthew, flicking his silver cigarette box open.
‘No thanks,’ Matthew said. ‘I don’t.’
‘Nor me, Daddy,’ Angela put in. ‘Not any more anyway.’
‘Oh,’ Arthur’s eyebrows arched in surprise. It was too soon to see if Angela had changed for good, for she’d been home less than twenty-four hours, but she’d not shouted and sworn at him once since she had returned and now she said she’d given up smoking. He smiled at her benignly. ‘I’m delighted to hear that, my dear,’ he said. ‘Maybe we could have a coffee or perhaps, Matthew, you’d like something stronger?’
Matthew would have dearly liked a double brandy to stop his limbs shaking so much, but appearance was everything. ‘No thank you, sir, a coffee would be fine.’
Angela took the cue and she flashed her smile across at her father, the one that ensured she always got her own way, and said as she got to her feet, ‘Well, I’ll not be long, I’m sure you have plenty to talk about.’
And Matthew talked. He told Arthur about his parents and how the premature demise of his father meant the burden of the factory had fallen on his mother, as it had been his father’s dearest wish that he gain an engineering degree.
‘How far through it are you?’
‘I’ve finished my first year,’ Matthew said. ‘I’m nearly twenty, my birthday is in September.’
‘And you like my daughter it seems?’
‘I do, sir. Really who wouldn’t like her?’
His answer pleased Arthur and he was laughing and chuckling as Angela entered the room, a tray of coffee in her hands. ‘I see you two have hit it off,’ she said happily. ‘That’s good. I told Daddy yesterday that I don’t want to be married right off, that we’ll have to wait until you have your inheritance next year, but I’d like to be engaged by my birthday in November.’
Matthew had been so surprised at her words, the coffee had slopped in his saucer, and he looked at her open-mouthed before adjusting his gaze to Arthur, certain he’d make some remark, some comment. But he saw Arthur gazing with rapt attention at his daughter, a smile playing around his lips.
Arthur was pleased, pleased that Angela, despite her dubious past behaviour, had found herself a decent boy at last. He faced the fact that his daughter was a sensual girl, bad blood inherited from her mother. It could be seen now even as they sat on the settee. She was snuggled against him, stroking his arm, clasping his hand with her own and almost devouring him with her eyes.
If she wasn’t to bring disgrace upon the house, she needed to be respectably married and speedily. Who better than this young, intelligent, upright man, who would one day be wealthy? Added to that, they were more than fond of each other, anyone with half an eye could see that. Before he’d met and been impressed by Matthew, he’d thought to delay the marriage, but seeing them together he knew that would be a mistake. Matthew got a settlement on his twenty-first birthday next September and Angela would be eighteen the following November. They could have a winter wedding.
Matthew eventually found his voice. ‘I … I’ll still have almost a full year at university after my birthday.’
‘That’s no matter,’ Arthur said dismissively. ‘Being married shouldn’t affect your studies.’
‘I’d thought to graduate before I marry,’ Matthew said. In fact, he’d had no thought of marrying anyone at all yet, but he felt he couldn’t say this.
‘Your inheritance is a sizeable one, I believe,’ Arthur said. ‘You’ll not need to graduate and be earning good money before you can afford a wife.’
‘You don’t think us too young to settle down?’
‘Not at all, you’ll grow up together,’ Arthur said. ‘Not that I won’t miss my minx of a daughter you know, but I’m afraid when my Angela decides on something, then she has to have it. She likes her own way.’
No way was he going to rock Angela’s boat and turn her back into the raging virago she’d become when she came home from the school in Hastings. If she wanted marriage to this young man and she’d been so much better since she’d met him, then she would have marriage and really, Arthur reflected to himself, she could have done a lot worse.
Matthew said nothing more. He was confident that his mother would see it his way, that she would say that he was too young to settle down, that the whole thing was ridiculous. She’d make both of them see that.
But Marian didn’t see it that way at all. She liked the lovely Angela – who was on her best behaviour every time they met. True, the girl was young and wouldn’t have an idea how to run a house, but in their case that hardly mattered. When she was gone, this house, in fact everything would belong to Matthew and she was sure Mrs Foley would help Angela fit the role of lady of the house.
Far, far more important was that Angela so evidently loved her son and it relieved her mind that he would have that love to bolster him when her time was up. And a wedding just over a year away was splendid, time enough to organise the lavish occasion and she should still be well enough to attend.
Matthew couldn’t understand his mother’s attitude, nor Angela’s. He’d thought to travel after his degree. He’d seen nothing of the world, because his father had disapproved of holidays. But with the money he would have, he wanted to buy a car and first travel around Britain and then try the continent. Then he wanted to go further afield; Canada, America, Mexico and the Caribbean.
Could he still do this with Angela in tow? He doubted it. He just knew Angela would expect plush hotels, her every whim attended to. But you didn’t really see a country like that. He’d intended to rough it, to sleep in a small tent, to go off the
beaten track for most tourists. For years, this dream had sustained him every autumn term at school when he’d listened to his friends as they recounted their adventures in the holidays they shared with their parents.
He saw the dream crumble. He saw the constraints of a home and maybe a family fall around his shoulders like a dead weight. He’d thought to have a few carefree bachelor years – possibly sharing a flat with some of the friends he’d made at uni. Girlfriends would figure of course and he did feel something special for Angela, but as yet the feelings were new, fragile, and he’d thought to take one day at a time as they got to know about each other, not make long-term plans on such a short acquaintance.
However, obedience had been demanded of Matthew and from an early age he’d learnt the worst thing he could possibly do was to upset his mother. He could stand the odd beatings his father gave him, but to see his beautiful mother’s eyes awash with tears, and hear the hurt and dismay in her voice at something he’d done, he’d always found hard to cope with.
And now, his mother appeared frailer than ever and he knew still spent much of the day in bed. How could he go against something she was so much in agreement with?
He couldn’t. He might want to but he couldn’t. He had to let them all arrange his life, his marriage to the lovely Angela Bradley and hope that they’d get along together. He gave a sigh, knowing this was the life he was committing himself to.
By the end of November, Angela sported a large diamond ring on her left hand. Matthew was back at university and that weekend they were out together looking for Christmas presents.
Angela had never shopped in Erdington Village since her mother’s defection. She was terrified of meeting her. She didn’t know how she’d react. But that day, the weather was cold and the skies heavy and leaden grey and Matthew, who wasn’t keen on shopping at the best of times, had balked at the idea of going to town when they had an array of shops on their doorstep. ‘It’s madness, Angela,’ he’d said. ‘You can see that sky is going to empty itself any minute. Let’s go and get the wretched shopping and be done with it.’
Hannah, too, was shopping. Normally, she’d leave the children behind with Vic, but he’d had a call-out that day, and so she pushed Frances in the pushchair and Adam danced by her side as they reached the High Street, making for Tesco’s near Six Ways.
Angela and Matthew had been into Gardner’s Milk Bar for a coffee and to get out of the horrible weather for a while. ‘I told you we should have gone into Birmingham,’ Angela complained. ‘What can you get in this crummy town? I wanted a cashmere cardigan for Daddy and Rackham’s is the only place.’
‘We can go next weekend,’ Matthew said. ‘Might be better weather then.’
‘Hardly likely.’
Matthew laughed. ‘Come on, grumpy, I wanted a beautiful shawl for my mother too, but I’m not moaning.’
‘Is your mother no better?’
‘A little,’ Matthew said. ‘She was picking up a bit, but this cold weather doesn’t help. That’s why I wanted the shawl. Something pretty and soft. Angora wool, or something similar. I’ll know the right thing when I see it.’
‘Well, you won’t see it here, will you? A wonderful collection of shawls Erdington has to offer.’
‘Drink your coffee and stop harping on,’ Matthew said, but good-humouredly. ‘Today’s the day for going back to your house and listening to records. Have you got the Beatles’ latest?’
‘“Hard Day’s Night”,’ Angela said. ‘Yes, I bought it yesterday. I’d like to see the film too when it comes to the Palace.’
‘I think we can manage that,’ Matthew said. ‘And next Saturday, rain or shine, we’ll go into town and buy the things we couldn’t find here.’
They were laughing as they went out of the café, each thinking how nice it would be to cuddle up on the sofa and listen to the Beatles that both Matthew and Angela were mad about, while they explored each other’s bodies. Angela, much more experienced than Matthew, tried to keep that fact secret, but it was hard. Matthew went very slowly, almost too slowly for Angela, and she often wanted to urge him to go further, but so far she’d restrained herself. She’d hate for Matthew to think her fast.
When they’d first had the house to themselves, she’d taken him to her bedroom. The first tentative kisses had grown more ardent and they’d fallen back on the bed together and Matthew, in a fever of excitement, had unbuttoned Angela’s shirt and unhooked her brassiere so that her breasts lay exposed. Angela, aroused beyond measure, unbuttoned her jeans and began to wriggle out of them as she felt Matthew harden against her.
Suddenly, Matthew had stopped caressing Angela’s breasts, swung his legs away from her and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘What is it?’ she cried, pulling her jeans up as she spoke and putting her arms around him, heedless of her semi-nakedness. ‘Don’t you want me?’
‘Of course I want you,’ Matthew said. ‘That’s why I couldn’t lie there next to you a moment longer.’
‘You could have me if you liked.’
‘You wouldn’t mind?’
‘Not with you I wouldn’t,’ Angela said. ‘After all, we’re going to get married. It’s different.’
‘It’s still wrong,’ Matthew insisted. ‘I’m sorry, I forgot myself.’ He looked at Angela’s luscious breasts inches away from his face and he knew if he reached out and touched them as he wanted to, he would be lost. There would be no turning back this time. ‘Please get dressed,’ he said. ‘We mustn’t come up here again. It’s too much of a temptation.’
And they never had and their lovemaking hadn’t progressed much further than that, yet they often had the house completely to themselves. Mrs Mackie never worked weekends, for when Arthur had employed her, he was off to Leeds every weekend. She always left the makings of a meal, or during the winter, a pie or casserole to just put in the oven for Saturday and Arthur and Angela, if she was home, always had their Sunday lunch out.
Arthur was often needed at the office now on Saturday mornings and many afternoons he told Angela he was visiting his club. It was a different club to the one she would have envisaged though and its address wasn’t Pershore Road any more, that had been too risky. He went instead to a similar place in Belgrave Road, where every sexual perversion could be bought, at a price.
But for Matthew and Angela, it meant a whole day of freedom and Angela couldn’t know how hard it was for Matthew not to take their lovemaking further when he held her beautiful and pliant body next to his and his whole body was on fire for her. But each time Matthew wanted to go forward, he was haunted by the scenes at some of the parties he went to with Ralph. The blatant depravity engaged in by some of the couples in view of everyone else had sickened him and because of it, he curtailed his lovemaking with Angela. They had, he told himself, plenty of time and he had no wish to frighten Angela by behaving like an enraged, out of control beast.
Angela knew nothing of Matthew’s thoughts and while their lovemaking never went far enough in her opinion, used as she was to regular sexual gratification, she began, as the weeks slipped by, to value Matthew for other qualities. He was innately kind and considerate and generous, for he’d been brought up to treat women well, and those were things Hillary’s friends often didn’t do.
He also had a good sense of humour and could always coax Angela from a mood. They mostly liked the same type of music, though Matthew liked the Rolling Stones, thinking they were almost as good as the Beatles, while Angela thought them awful – brash and common. Angela had also met some of Matthew’s university friends and found most of them interesting and fun. Matthew didn’t tell Angela of his friends’ open-mouthed astonishment at the news of his engagement and impending marriage. ‘God, man! What is it with you?’ one asked. ‘I mean, I know she’s a cracker, but marriage? Jesus, man!’
While another said with a slight smirk, ‘You don’t have to marry them these days. You can love them and leave them. They have the pill today.’
Matthew knew that ther
e was no way on God’s earth that he could make his friends understand how he’d been coerced into marriage, when he could barely understand it himself, so he said nothing.
Instead, he and Angela entered a courtship. No wild parties or heavy drinking bouts or drug-taking. Instead, they met groups of friends in coffee bars and pooled their money for the jukebox, or they went to the cinema, or out dancing and occasionally Matthew borrowed Marian’s car and they went to the theatre or to dinner. Then of course there was the entertainment at the university; concerts, balls, dances, variety acts, live groups – they sampled them all and daily Angela realised Matthew was becoming more and more important to her.
That day they left the milk bar, arm in arm, snuggled together for warmth, laughing hilariously about something and so engrossed with each other that they failed to notice the woman turning the corner with the pushchair. ‘Oh sorry,’ Matthew said. ‘Didn’t see you there.’
Angela said nothing and neither did the woman. They both just stood and stared at one another and Matthew then stared too. The woman was the spitting image of his Angela, he thought, or maybe it was the other way round? But whatever way it was, they were like two peas in a pod. The woman was older, although her hair was still the same vivid auburn and the eyes sparkling green, the skin as clear, and even the nose and mouth the same shape. It was like looking at what Angela would be in twenty years’ time.
Hannah looked at her daughter in shock, but it was nothing to the shock she got when she tore her eyes from her daughter and they slid across to Matthew. Then her eyes widened, while the blood drained from her face.
It was as if she’d slipped back to the war years and the man before her was her beloved Mike, her first love and the father of her son. Her son! Oh my God! She told herself not to be so silly. The boy had a resemblance to Mike, that was all. Didn’t people say everyone had a double? That was all it was. There was no need to get into a state about it.