We'll Meet Again

by Patricia Burns

  ‘What are you doing to my mummy?’

  He had forgotten Bobby. The boy was standing a yard or so away from them, his face pale and his eyes fierce, frightened but ready to stick up for his mother.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Tom said. ‘I’m not hurting her. I would never hurt her.’

  Annie raised her head and held out an arm to Bobby.

  ‘I was upset, darling. Mr Featherstone is being kind.’

  Bobby lunged forward and hugged her round the hips, and the three of them held on to each other until Annie broke away. She found a handkerchief and dried her eyes and blew her nose.

  ‘I’m sorry, making all that fuss.’

  ‘It wasn’t a fuss, and I’m glad you did,’ Tom assured her.

  He felt privileged that she should have confided in him.

  She nodded and put the handkerchief back in her pocket.

  ‘I feel better now, better for telling you.’ She looked down at Bobby’s worried face. ‘It’s all right. I was telling Mr Featherstone about something and remembering it made me sad. It was nothing he did.’

  With a jolt, Tom realised that the only man Bobby had lived with was Walter. He expected men to hurt women and make them cry. Tom put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘You’re a good boy, Bobby, sticking up for your mam like that. A brave boy. I’m glad she’s got you looking out for her.’

  There was much for him to think about on the way back. Nothing had been solved and nothing had outwardly changed, yet everything felt different. It was as if a kaleidoscope had been turned and all the pieces had shifted and fallen into a new pattern. Going home was going to be ten times more difficult now, for he had come to see what he had known all along—that Annie Cross was the one woman for him. He had never stopped loving her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  SEEING Tom again stirred all manner of painful feelings. Annie almost wished he had never come. Speaking to him, having his arms round her, had only served to remind her just how much she had lost. And now he had gone again, back to his wife and his son, leaving a ragged hole in her life.

  She was wrapped up in thoughts of him when she met Jeff Sutton in the High Street. As usual, he tried to start up a conversation. As usual, she asked him why he wasn’t at work.

  ‘Oh, they won’t miss me,’ he said. ‘Look, why don’t we have a pot of tea and some cakes? I don’t see anything of you now you’re not down at Silver Sands every day.’

  She tried to resist but in the end she was feeling so lonely that she agreed. Delighted, Jeff steered her into a teashop, ordered the best of everything and set about telling her all his woes. His chief complaint was that, with Beryl getting married in the summer, the whole house was wedding crazy. Annie listened with half an ear. She’d heard about Beryl’s triumph via her mother and Mrs Sutton, who was still coming to her for alterations. It just went to prove that Beryl always got what she wanted, even if, as in this case, she had to wait quite a while for it.

  ‘Mind you, I think he’s a bit of a nancy boy,’ Jeff said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know—bats for the other side.’

  Annie didn’t know. She had no idea what he was talking about.

  ‘As long as Beryl loves him—’ she said.

  ‘Yes, but really—’

  ‘Oh, do stop moaning,’ she told him. ‘You’re just jealous because Beryl’s getting all the attention. You’re like a spoilt kid.’

  Jeff looked chastened. ‘Sorry—I was going on a bit, wasn’t I? Tell me about what you’re doing at the site these days.’

  ‘Not a lot at the moment,’ Annie said. She made an effort to brighten up and put Tom out of her head. ‘I go and air the vans out every few days so that they don’t get damp and musty. And l’ve been teaching myself touch typing from a book I got from the library. I’m getting quite quick at it now, so that’ll be useful for doing the paperwork this summer. What I have to do is start putting some adverts in for this year’s bookings. I’d really like to get some families in earlier. Everyone wants to go on holiday in August, but that’s only four weeks, or six if you count the end of July and the beginning of September, and I can’t make anything like a living out of that.’

  Jeff considered this. ‘Would they come earlier if it was cheaper then? Better to let the vans cheap than not at all.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’ve thought of that. But Reggie always said how people are very set in their ways, and he was right. There’s a time and a place for everything, and holidays are supposed to be in August.’

  ‘Hmm …’ Jeff frowned, thinking. ‘It’s a tricky problem. Perhaps if you made a big thing of it in your advertisements? Sort of drawing the public’s attention to the fact that it’s cheaper at other times? I mean, what do you usually put at the top of your adverts?’

  ‘I only put a few in last year. Because Reggie and Gwen had a dozen caravans and I’ve only got five, I filled quite a lot of space with people who were coming back for a second year,’ Annie told him. ‘The ads I did do said where we were and about clean modern vans and how much they were.’

  ‘Well, how would it be if you made the cheap price a feature? Made that the headline, so to speak?’ Jeff suggested.

  Annie turned it around in her head. Amazingly, Jeff was talking real sense.

  ‘Bargains, you mean? Like a sale?’

  ‘That’s right. Something to catch the eye. You might get people who wouldn’t be able to afford a holiday normally. A whole new market. My father’s very keen on new markets. And we’re all supposed to be New Elizabethans now, remember. New holidays for New Elizabethans.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Annie said. The idea caught light. She could see that it would work. ‘New holidays—early holidays—early holidays for early birds. Yes! Early birds catch the worm! They get the cheap weeks. Jeff—you’re a genius.’

  Jeff flushed with pleasure. ‘Oh, well, I don’t know about that.’

  ‘You are. You made me think about it a different way. That’s what it needs. I was stuck in a rut, just like the August people. I’m going to start writing a new advertisement the moment I get home.’

  Jeff’s face was bright with enthusiasm. ‘Why wait till then? Let’s do it straight away.’

  ‘But I haven’t got a form with me,’ Annie objected.

  ‘Where do you place your adverts?’

  ‘Daltons Weekly.’

  ‘Right, I’ll go and get one from the newsagents right now.’

  ‘You’re mad! You should be at work.’

  ‘This is much more fun,’ Jeff said. ‘Don’t move—I’ll be back in two ticks.’

  Leaving Annie to finish the last iced fancy cake, he dashed out of the teashop. In no time he was back with a Daltons Weekly and a notebook and pencil.

  ‘Here we are. Now, let’s get to work.’

  Together they argued over the best heading, then honed it down to the correct number of words. Annie balked at having a semi-display layout. It seemed a lot of money to her.

  ‘You’ve got to speculate to accumulate,’ Jeff told her. ‘People are impressed by a bigger advert. It makes them think that your holiday park is better than the ones with the small ads. Silver Sands is the best. You’ve got to make them believe that too.’

  ‘I see what you mean,’ Annie agreed. ‘But it’s so expensive.’

  ‘It’ll be worth it when it brings in the custom.’

  ‘Yes—’

  It was all right for him; he had plenty of money.

  ‘Look, let me pay for it,’ Jeff said, as if he had read her mind. ‘It’s my idea, so I’ll back it. I’ll write you out a cheque.’

  ‘No!’ Annie was horrified. ‘You’ll do nothing of the kind.’

  Jeff tried to get round her, but she was adamant. In the end, he had to give in.

  ‘All right, but promise me you’ll send it off like that.’

  Annie agreed. ‘You’ve been ever so kind, helping me like this. It’s really nice to be able to talk to someone about i
t. My mum just gets worried if I try to share any of my ideas with her.’

  ‘I’ve really enjoyed it,’ he told her. ‘Honestly. It’s funny, isn’t it? I just can’t get excited about the factory. My father is. He goes on about it all the time. Give him anew machine or a new process and he’s happy for weeks trying it out, but it leaves me cold. I just don’t care about it. But this—it’s different. It’s—an adventure. Yes, that’s it. An adventure. Something new. It’s fun.’

  ‘It might be fun for you. It’s the difference between being a cleaner and being a businesswoman for me,’ Annie told him.

  But it had lifted her spirits considerably, so that when he suggested they met at the teashop again next week, she agreed without much of an argument. Soon it became a regular thing. She almost looked forward to it.

  On top of that, the advertisements appeared to be working. Bookings were coming in for June and July, and a few for September. Things were looking up, and she had to admit that it was partly due to Jeff. So when he asked her to go out with him for an evening, she agreed.

  Her mother was very suspicious at first. ‘You’re going out? Where? Who with?’

  Annie had considered saying she was going to the pictures with a girlfriend. One of the mothers at the school, perhaps. But she knew her mother wouldn’t swallow it. And besides, there was nothing wrong with going out with Jeff. They were both single. Unlike Tom. Yet again she pushed the thought of him away and adopted a casual air.

  ‘Actually, it’s Jeff Sutton.’

  ‘Jeff—? You’re going out with Jeffrey Sutton? Mrs Sutton’s son?’ Edna was utterly astounded.

  ‘Yes. The very same.’

  ‘But—but—When did you—? I mean, you hardly—How did he come to—?’

  ‘I’ve met him a few times in the High Street. Besides, I’ve known him for years. There’s no harm in it, is there?’

  She tried to keep very calm. It was difficult when her mother was looking as if she didn’t know whether to be terrified or delighted.

  ‘Dear me—Jeffrey Sutton—Such a lovely family … Oh, but, Annie, love, do his parents know? Do they approve?’

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ Annie admitted.

  Her mother put a hand to her face. ‘Do be careful, dear. You don’t want to go upsetting the Suttons. Perhaps you’d better not go.’

  ‘Too late now, Mum, I’ve agreed. And I’d better go and get changed, ‘cos he’ll be here soon.’

  In fact she was only half dressed when Jeff came bouncing into the yard in his MG. Her mother let him in and, by the time she came down, he had her twisted round his little finger. Both of them turned to look at her as she came into the kitchen. Both of them were astonished at the transformation. With her best outfit on, her face made up and her hair brushed into a fashionable style, Annie looked a very different person from the woman who went out cleaning.

  ‘Wow! Who’s this film star? I think I’ve come to the wrong address,’ Jeff said.

  Annie smiled. It was nice to get dressed up, nice to be going out, even if it was only with Jeff.

  The evening was unlike anything Annie had ever experienced before. Off they went in the little red sports car, all the way to Colchester. They pulled in at the most expensive hotel, where Jeff had booked a table for dinner. In the hushed atmosphere, surrounded by crisp white napery, sparkling glasses and a bewildering array of knives and forks, they worked their way through three courses, coffee and—wonder of wonders—a bottle of real French wine. Jeff was excellent company, treating her to a hilarious account of the preparations for Beryl’s wedding.

  It was only as she tottered out of the entrance and collapsed into the low seat of the MG that Annie began to feel anxious. Was this going to be Bobby Joe and the Jeep all over again? She need not have worried. Jeff was the perfect gentleman, running her straight back to the farm.

  ‘Oh, it’s been such fun. Thank you so much,’ she said, reaching for the door handle.

  ‘Thank you for coming. I don’t know when I’ve ever enjoyed myself more,’ Jeff told her. He got out, walked round the car and opened the door for her. ‘I hope we can do this again,’ he said.

  ‘Well—’

  ‘We could go dancing. You like dancing, don’t you? Please say you will, Annie.’

  In the end, she agreed.

  ‘Wonderful!’ Jeff leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. ‘How about Friday?’

  ‘But—that’s only three days away!’

  ‘Three whole days. I don’t know how I’ll get through them. Till Friday, Annie.’

  And so she found that she was going out with Jeff twice or even three times a week. They never went anywhere in Wittlesham and, when Annie challenged him about this, Jeff admitted that he hadn’t told his parents about her.

  ‘It’s none of their business,’ he insisted. ‘They try to rule everything else I do. I’m not letting them spoil this.’

  Because she was fond of him and he was so nice to her, Annie let Jeff have a kiss and a cuddle at the end of each date, but beyond that she did not go. She had learnt her lesson the hard way. However often he said he loved her, she slapped his hands away. Jeff, because he was so desperate to please her, was far easier to manage than Bobby Joe. She only had to threaten not to see him again and he fell into line.

  Going out with Jeff was now an established part of her life, but it was a part that got mysteriously left out of her letters to Tom.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  ANOTHER summer was fast approaching. All the caravans were booked for the school holiday period and most of them for July and even the end of June. Annie and her mother gave them all a good clean out ready for the first holiday-makers of the season and Annie added a see-saw and roundabout to the children’s playground and painted the inside of the toilet block. Then she hit a problem. The advertisements were too successful.

  ‘But that’s wonderful!’ Jeff cried when she told him she was actually having to turn people away. ‘I told you that ad would work, didn’t I? Who’s the genius, then?’

  ‘It isn’t wonderful, it’s heartbreaking,’ Annie said. ‘All that money I could be making if only I could afford to buy even a couple more vans.’

  They were sitting in the restaurant of an old coaching inn, a place full of black beams, hunting prints and shiny brass. Jeff waved an arm in an expansive gesture.

  ‘Then buy a couple more vans. Like I said before, you’ve got to speculate to accumulate. I was right about the ad, wasn’t I? You didn’t want to spend on a semi-display and it’s paid off in bucketloads.’

  ‘Caravans are a lot more expensive than a few ads, even if I get them on the never-never,’ Annie pointed out. ‘And nobody’s going to lend me money to buy them outright.’

  Jeff put his glass down, reached across the table and took her hands in his.

  ‘I’ll lend you some. I’ve got a bit, and I could sell the car. That’d buy some vans.’

  Annie was appalled. ‘Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly let you do that!’

  Jeff looked hurt. ‘Why ever not?’

  Because she did not want to be beholden to him, that was why. But she didn’t want to hurt him by saying that.

  ‘It—it would spoil things—’ she said feebly. ‘You shouldn’t lend money to friends; it makes things … different—’

  Jeff only held her hands tighter. He looked into her eyes, his face alight.

  ‘But if we were more than friends, if we were married, then it would be all right, wouldn’t it? Then all of mine would be yours.’

  Annie stared at him, not sure whether to believe what she had just heard.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, Annie, say you will. It would be wonderful. Just think, we could be together all the time. I could leave the beastly factory and come and work with you at Silver Sands. We could do it together, you and me. We’d be so happy.’

  ‘But—’

  Her head was reeling. Jeff Sutton was asking her, Annie Cross, to marry him.

 
‘You’re joking,’ she said.

  ‘Annie—!’ He looked profoundly shocked. ‘I was never more serious in my life. You know how much I love you. I’ve got it all worked out. My father’s giving Beryl the deposit on a house for her wedding present. He’d have to do the same for me, but we needn’t spend it on a house. You’ve got a house already. We could live at Marsh Edge and invest the money in Silver Sands. And then you know it would be much easier to borrow money. Banks are much happier to give loans to well-financed businesses.’

  He meant it, Annie realised. He really meant it. Jeff, whom she had always thought of as being an overgrown baby, had thought it all through and come up with a really sensible plan.

  But it was quite out of the question.

  ‘Jeff, it’s really sweet of you, but I can’t—’

  ‘Oh, Annie, please don’t say that. I can’t live without you. I’ve thought about it so much. You’ve been so brave and clever all these years by yourself, and now I want to take care of you. I’m no good on my own, Annie, but you make me want to make something of myself.’

  Jeff’s face was alight with excitement at the thought of this wonderful future. He let go of her hands and waved his about to emphasise his words.

  ‘I know that if I had you I could be something. Together we could be a real success. We could show everybody that they were wrong. My parents, who think I’m useless, and that beastly bank manager who turned you down—we would show them, Annie darling, we’d show them that they were wrong. We could do it together.’

  Annie stared at him as the idea danced before her, tempting in its simplicity. Against all the odds, someone loved her enough to want to marry her, despite her past. And not just anyone, but the son of one of the richest men in Wittlesham. She could be a respectable married woman. No more snide remarks, no more disparaging looks. Bobby would have a father. Well, a stepfather, anyway. And she could really start to make Silver Sands into the place she wanted it to be … She brought her thoughts to a shuddering halt. It was madness. She was beginning to think that it was actually possible, when clearly it wasn’t. She didn’t love him.