Maybe This Time

by Anna King

  With a strength born of desperation, Ida stood her ground. Avoiding Shaun’s gaze, she turned her eyes towards Josie, licked her lips and blurted out, ‘All right then, I’ll say me piece.’ Her voice quavering, she thrust her chin out, saying, ‘I thought better of you, Josie, but I can see I was wrong. Elsie said I could ’ave that bed, seeing as I was the only one who ever bothered to visit her; despite what other people say.’ Her eyes darted to Shaun, then back to Josie. ‘You must know that, Josie, it was all written down, legal like, in her will. She—’

  Before Ida could finish, Josie’s feet seemed to leave the air.

  ‘Will! What will? My mum never made a will, she had nothing to leave. As for the bed, well, you’re too late. I’ve already sold it. Harry’s coming with his sons to pick it up tomorrow. If it means that much to you, you can buy it off him. Now piss off before I really lose me temper.’ Josie glared at the irate woman, her entire body shaking with anger. She felt Shaun’s arm pull her close, and for a moment was grateful for his strength; then she remembered Ida’s previous taunts concerning Shaun and gently pulled away. Whatever happened, she mustn’t give Shaun any false hopes regarding their relationship. He was too kind, too good to be taken advantage of.

  Grabbing Ida’s arm, Josie marched her to the door, literally throwing the woman out on the street. Then she slammed the door and leaned against it, her body heaving. She couldn’t cope with this, she just couldn’t. All she wanted right now was some peace.

  But Ida Black wasn’t giving up so easily. Pushing open the letterbox, she cried, ‘You ain’t getting away with this, Josie Guntrip. That bed belongs ter me an’—’

  She yelped in pain as Josie slammed the metal letterbox in her face. A blissful silence followed, then Shaun led Josie gently towards the kitchen.

  ‘Here yer go, love. You sit yerself down while I make us some tea, and don’t yer worry about that old trout. I’ll make sure she doesn’t give yer any more aggravation.’

  Josie groaned silently. That was just what she didn’t want. She was quite capable of dealing with Ida Black; she was just feeling a bit vulnerable at the moment.

  ‘Thanks, Shaun, but I can manage, honestly.’ She smiled up at the concerned face, and for a brief moment wished she could love Shaun instead of Rory, but she knew, deep down, that that would never happen, as much as she’d like it to. ‘I’m really grateful for all your help, Shaun, but I’d like to be on me own for a while.’

  Shaun’s face fell, causing Josie to lower her eyes. She felt rather than saw him move away.

  ‘Okay, love, I understand. I’ll just get that base out into the yard then I’ll be off. You know where to find me if yer want anything.’

  Keeping her head bowed, Josie said softly, ‘I know, Shaun, thanks.’ Then, realising he would need help in moving the base, she started to rise. ‘Hang on, Shaun, I’ll give you a hand shifting it.’

  ‘No you won’t.’ Shaun, his hand on her shoulder, gently pushed her back on the chair. ‘Like I said to Pat, I can manage on me own.’ He winked, a cheeky smile on his lips. ‘If I ain’t as strong as I think I am, I’ll give yer a shout.’

  While she waited for Shaun to drag the battered piece of furniture through the kitchen to dump it alongside the rest of the bed, Josie set about making a pot of tea. A few minutes passed without a sound, causing her face to pucker up in bewilderment. Wondering what he was up to, she left the tea to brew and was about to go and see what was happening when Shaun’s loud, excited voice made her jump.

  ‘Josie, come ’ere, quickly.’

  The urgency in his voice brought Josie running into the hall.

  ‘What? What is it?’

  ‘Look, Josie.’ Shaun was on his knees beside the wooden base. ‘I thought that old bag was up ter something. She seemed too keen ter get in the house, an’ she was so worried about the bed… well, this bit of it anyway. She wouldn’t ’ave been that brave if she wasn’t desperate ter see what was going on, and that made me suspicious, so I thought I’d ’ave a look – and I was right.’ His face alight with excitement, he cried, ‘Look, Josie, look!’ He grabbed her hand and pulled her down beside him. And there it was. The reason why Ida Black had overcome her usual cowardliness in her desperate attempt to take possession of the bed.

  Built into the base was a drawer, and in that drawer nestled a number of small chamois bags and a flat wooden box. As if in a dream, Josie lifted out the bags first, nine in all, and then the box. Still kneeling, she pulled the string of one of the bags and gently tipped the contents on to the floor.

  The sovereigns made no sound as they tumbled out, for they had been carefully wrapped in old newspaper to stop them from rattling. Josie didn’t count them. Instead she opened another bag, and another, until they lay in a pile on the carpet. Then she opened the box, and what was in there brought a gasp of surprise from Shaun, for there were six thick wads of five-pound notes, but still Josie made no sound. And it was this fact that finally penetrated Shaun’s excited mind.

  ‘Josie?’ he said tentatively. ‘Josie, you all right, love? Shall I fetch me mum?’

  Dumbly Josie nodded, and Shaun, feeling the first pangs of concern for her state of mind, quickly got to his feet. ‘I won’t be long, Josie. You just stay there, and don’t open the door till me mum comes, all right?… Oh, shit!’ He dapped his hand hard against his forehead. ‘I forgot. Mum’s gone ter see one of her customers, but she shouldn’t be long.’ He hesitated, unsure if he should stay or go and find Annie, then he glanced at Josie, and his mind was made up for him. Like most men, Shaun was ill equipped to handle an emotional situation. Such matters were best left to women. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, ‘I’ll be as quick as I can, love, okay?’

  Again Josie nodded. It was as if she had been deprived of speech.

  Taking one last look at the silent figure kneeling by the pile of money, Shaun raced from the house in search of his mother.

  * * *

  Josie sat at the kitchen table staring down at the pile of coins and notes, still unable to believe her eyes. She had never seen so much money in all her life. And it was only by a quirk of fate that she had found it at all. But instead of feeling happy, Josie was trying hard to bite down on the rage that was threatening to engulf her.

  If she hadn’t hated her mother in life, she certainly did now.

  As far back as she could remember, money had always been tight, a situation her mother had blamed on her husband for not being capable of getting a better job which would enable them to live a more comfortable life. Even when Josie had started to bring home a wage, Elsie Guntrip had continued to complain, never missing an opportunity to point out to her husband and daughter how much it cost to feed and clothe them all. She had also never tired of telling them how lucky they were to be living in a house that was fully paid for, unlike their neighbours. In fact, theirs was the only house in the entire neighbourhood that was bought and paid for, thanks to Elsie’s late grandmother.

  Elsie had heard all about her grandmother at an early age at her mother’s knee. According to Elsie, her grandparents had been comfortably off, due to shrewd investments, which was why they had been able to afford to buy their house outright. From what Josie and her father had gleaned, they hadn’t been short of a bob or two, and on their deaths, the house and money had gone to their only child, Elsie’s mother, who in turn had willed all her possessions to her only daughter. Yet when George Guntrip had dared to ask how they could be so poor when they didn’t have rent to pay, Elsie would become defensive, deliberately starting an argument with her husband, who was no match for his sharp-tongued wife.

  Josie’s eyes hardened as she recalled her dad coming home from working a fourteen-hour day to be met by a cold kitchen and a chunk of bread and cheese, usually his only meal of the day, while his wife sat on her backside beside a roaring fire. Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered her father’s worn expression as he ate his meagre meal. Yet as tired as he was, he’d always found time to play with his d
aughter, knowing that the only signs of affection his child knew came from him. If it had been left to Elsie Guntrip, Josie would never have known the comfort or joy of an affectionate cuddle, or even the most basic parental caring, like being tucked into bed, or a good-night kiss. Looking back, Josie knew that her father had only remained in his loveless marriage because he wouldn’t leave his beloved child in the hands of the cold woman he had married.

  But Elsie hadn’t been as clever as she’d imagined.

  Josie looked towards the mantelpiece and smiled grimly. Somehow her father had managed to put a bit of money by each week, as the photo of Josie as a young child proved. How her mother had ranted and raved at her husband, furious that he’d had the money to spare for what she termed trivial items. But what had really stuck in her craw was knowing her meek husband wasn’t as pliable as she’d imagined. No matter how hard she’d tried, she’d never found out how he had been able to pay for a professional photograph of their only child.

  Turning her attention to the bank book she had found in her father’s box, Josie studied the savings account George Guntrip had opened for his daughter. The regular payments, low as they were, amounted to just over two hundred pounds. The first entry, for five shillings, had been made on Josie’s second birthday, and somehow her father had managed to deposit a little each week. There were gaps in the entries, and Josie could only surmise that on those dates, for whatever reason, her dad hadn’t been able to put anything aside. As her misty eyes roamed down the faded columns, she shook her head in bewilderment, seeing how the entries for a few pence one week, threepence or sixpence another, had mounted up over the years. And during all that time her dad had gone without the basic pleasures of life, such as an ounce of tobacco, or a pint of beer at the weekend with his friends.

  Josie licked away a salty tear from her lip but made no effort to stop the rest of them from falling. If only she’d known about the money. She could have used it to ease her dad’s life. Maybe they could even have gone away, just the two of them, on a little holiday somewhere in the country, maybe. He would have liked that. Her only consolation was knowing that she had been at his side when he died.

  Josie remembered his death vividly. He had been asleep on and off for days, and during that time she had hardly left his side. The last face he had seen was the one he’d loved the most. He had smiled before closing his eyes for the last time.

  The house without his presence soon became unbearable, and Josie had been wondering if she was brave enough to leave home when her mother had been taken ill again. It was as if Elsie had sensed her daughter was on the point of rebellion, and was frightened of being left on her own. But unlike her past mysterious illnesses, this time she hadn’t been faking, and Josie’s secret plan had been scuppered.

  There had been many times when Josie had thought of ending it all, because, as she’d tell herself, she didn’t have a life anyway; she was just existing from one day to the next. With both Rory and her dad gone, she’d seen no reason for carrying on. But the self-preservation instinct is always strong, so Josie had hung on, just taking things day by day. If it hadn’t been for the Flynns’ friendship, she would have had no one.

  Thinking of the Flynns, Josie’s head shot up quickly. Annie would be over soon. Josie stared down again at the pile of money. The money her mother had been lying on for years. If she hadn’t asked Shaun and Pat to help get rid of the heavy double bed, she would never have found the hidden stash.

  A sudden noise in the back yard galvanised her into action. If it was Ida again, and she clapped eyes on the money… Well! It didn’t bear thinking about. Quickly now, she put all the sovereigns and notes into the drawer beneath the sink, then picked up the scraps of old newspaper the coins had been wrapped in and threw them in the kitchen bin.

  Her ears pricked for any further sound from the back yard, she sat back and waited for Annie Flynn to arrive.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God!’ Annie breathed in stunned amazement; and yet some part of her wasn’t surprised. It was just what she would have expected from that bitter old woman. She had always known Elsie Guntrip to be a cold-hearted devil. It was just like her to sit on a pile of money while her family went without the basic luxuries of life. Well! She smiled grimly. A lot of good it would do her now. And if there was any justice in the world, the money would change Josie’s life for the better; for she couldn’t think of anyone who deserved a bit of good fortune more than the young woman Annie was proud to call a friend. She looked again at the pile of coins and notes heaped on the table and felt a warm feeling of contentment wash over her. And a fortune it was too, in every sense of the word. Raising her eyes upwards, she grinned. If Elsie was looking down on them, and that was debatable, she’d be squirming like a fish on a hook.

  ‘Have you counted it all, Josie?’

  Josie smiled widely. In the forty minutes she had waited for Annie to turn up, her former state of shock had given way to pure joy.

  ‘Oh yes, Annie, I certainly have. All in all it comes to a grand total of six hundred and seventy-eight pounds, twelve shillings and sixpence. Plus I’ve also got the money Dad put by for me.’

  ‘What will you do with it, Josie?’ Jane was hovering behind her mother, her face stretched in a grin of genuine happiness for Josie.

  ‘I don’t really know yet, Jane. It’s gonna take some getting used to – having money, I mean. I still can’t believe it meself. Of course I’ll put it in the bank first thing Monday morning. I’m not gonna just sit on it, or rather lie on it, like me mum did. I’d never have a good night’s sleep thinking of all that money in the house. But I’ve still got to decide what to do with it in the long run. I suppose the bank manager will have some advice to give me, but I’d like to have a plan of me own to fall back on.’ Looking to Annie she said, ‘What would you do in my place, Annie?’

  Taken by surprise, Annie twitched, then scratched her neck absently.

  ‘Jasus, child, what a question. It’s not something I’ve ever thought of; being rich, I mean.’ Looking to her daughter she asked, ‘How about you, Jane? D’ye have any ideas for Josie?’

  Now it was Jane’s turn to be taken by surprise – but not for long. Pulling up a chair, she sat down and said excitedly, ‘I don’t know what I’d do in the long run, but I do know what I’d do while I was making up my mind.’ She looked from her mother to Josie before adding, ‘I’d go on a spending spree and buy myself everything I’d ever wanted but couldn’t afford, that’s what I’d do.’

  Josie and Annie stared at Jane, feeling themselves being caught up in the young girl’s excitement and enthusiasm.

  ‘She’s right, Josie,’ Annie grinned. ‘Sure and ye deserve a treat. And if ye don’t mind me saying so, you could be doing with some new clothes. When was the last time ye bought anything for yourself?’

  ‘I can’t remember, Annie, I honestly can’t.’ Josie shook her head slowly. ‘I’ve always made me own clothes. It was either that or the jumble stall, and I never did fancy wearing clothes other people had chucked out. I mean, you don’t know who wore them last, do you?’

  ‘Now don’t you go turning your nose up at buying clothes second hand, love.’ Annie waved a finger under Josie’s nose. ‘There’s many a bargain I’ve had at Paddy’s Market.’

  ‘Mum!’ Jane laughed. ‘Josie doesn’t have to shop at Paddy’s Market. That’s the whole point. She can shop anywhere she likes now.’

  Josie stared hard into Jane’s excited face and felt a pang of compassion for her young friend. If money could remove the ugly birthmark, she would gladly give up every penny she now had. But there was something she could do.

  ‘Are you doing anything tomorrow, Annie? ’Cos if you’re not, I’m taking you both shopping; and no arguments.’ Josie beamed at the two women who were the closest to family she would ever know.

  ‘Oh, now, love, hold your horses a minute. Don’t ye be letting the money go to your head…’ Annie said, a note of em
barrassment in her voice, uncomfortable at the idea of having Josie spend money on her.

  But Jane had no such scruples. Her face alive with excitement, she jumped to her feet crying, ‘Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, Mum. It’s no fun shopping on your own, and besides…’ She smiled at Josie, slipping her arm through her friend’s. ‘Someone has to go with Josie, if only to make sure she enjoys herself.’

  The genuine warmth that was emanating from the young girl transferred itself to Josie, and she felt a jolt of happiness envelop her entire body. It was a good feeling, and one she hadn’t experienced for a long time; not since…

  Josie forced her mind to focus on the present; she had spent far too long dwelling on the past. She would put all thoughts of Rory firmly behind her – yet why did the memories still hurt so much?

  Gripping Jane’s hand, Josie held it tightly.

  ‘Well, Annie?’

  Annie looked up at the two young women and shook her head. Getting to her feet, she said, ‘All right, all right. I give in. But I’ll have to be away back over the road. The men will be wondering what’s going on—’ She stopped abruptly, her words faltering. ‘What I mean is, they’ll not be being nosy, but they’ll be bound to be—’

  Josie reached out with her free hand and clutched Annie’s plump fingers warmly.

  ‘I know what you mean, Annie. Of course they’ll be wondering what’s going on, they wouldn’t be human if they didn’t. Besides, if it wasn’t for Shaun and Pat, I would never have found the money. In fact, if I hadn’t had your friendship all these years, I might not be standing here today. ’Cos there’s been times I’ve wondered if it was worth going on…’ Josie heard her voice crack with emotion and lowered her head. She was going to cry. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t; she’d been determined she would shed no more tears, for she’d had enough of them to last a lifetime. But her mind clearly had other ideas. Then she was being held tight, and she gave herself up to the flood of tears that had been building up since the discovery of the money, made all the more bitter by the brutal revelation that her own mother must have really loathed her.