The Penny Bangle

by Margaret James

  She’d get it widened and get some men to gravel it later on, she told her mother. She’d also need to see a carpenter about the window frames. Robert hoped his sister would find enough to keep her occupied, and she wouldn’t have any time left over to have a go at him.

  But Daisy always managed to find time.

  ‘What are you and Cassie going to do?’ she asked, as she and her brother sat at the kitchen table one morning after breakfast, while Rose was with her hens. ‘Where will you live – in Dorset?’

  ‘We haven’t decided yet,’ said Robert, getting up to go.

  ‘What about you, Rob – will you be a farmer, or will you do something else?’ Daisy got up too and she was at the door before him, with her back against it, so he couldn’t leave unless he physically picked her up and moved her to one side.

  There was no point changing tack and going into the house. She’d only follow him and pin him up against a wall.

  ‘I know you’ve had an argument,’ said Daisy.

  ‘We’ve had a disagreement.’ Robert shrugged. ‘But we can sort it out.’

  ‘When do you intend to do it?’ Daisy asked. ‘When will you be seeing Cass again?’

  ‘I need to go and meet the vet,’ said Robert. ‘He’s due here any minute. He’s always in a hurry, and – ’

  ‘Robert!’ Daisy glared at him. ‘I’ve written to Cassie twice since you came back to England. I’ve invited her to lunch with me and Ewan. I’ve sent her tickets for the premiere of a film I know she’d love to see. But she hasn’t replied. What’s going on?’

  ‘She might be in Birmingham.’

  ‘She might?’ demanded Daisy. ‘You mean you don’t know?’

  Robert merely shrugged again and stared up at a cobweb on the ceiling.

  So then of course he got the third degree.

  ‘What are you so scared of, Rob?’ his sister asked him, when she’d dragged the story out of him.

  ‘I’m not scared of anything, Daze – and now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get things ready for the vet.’

  ‘When you were in Italy, if you had been caught by German soldiers or the Black Brigade, would you have been tortured?’

  ‘I expect so.’

  ‘Then would they have shot you?’

  ‘Yes, they might.’

  ‘But you weren’t afraid?’ asked Daisy.

  ‘I suppose I didn’t think about it.’

  ‘So why are you afraid to go and see Cassie?’

  ‘Cassie doesn’t want to see me, Daze – I told you that.’

  ‘When you told Cassie about Sofia, did you apologise?’

  ‘Of course I did!’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I told her I was sorry, obviously.’

  ‘So that was it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ demanded Robert.

  ‘You didn’t say you regretted what you’d done, and wished it hadn’t happened? Did you tell Cass you love her and she means the world to you?’

  ‘I – ’

  ‘You didn’t, did you?’ Daisy sighed. ‘Go and see her, Rob. Get on a train to Birmingham, if that’s where you think she might have gone. Go and say you’re sorry properly, tell her that you love her, and everything will be all right again.’

  ‘If I go and grovel like you’re suggesting, she’ll despise me.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting you should grovel,’ Daisy told him patiently. ‘All I’m saying is – you should try to find the strength and courage to make up. If you don’t, you’ll probably regret it all your life.’

  ‘The vet’s just come.’ Robert moved his sister away from the back door.

  ‘I’m right,’ called Daisy, as she followed him across the yard. ‘You know I’m right – and Robert?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’ll need to give her something.’

  ‘What do you have in mind?’

  ‘She’s got a granny, hasn’t she? She’s been in Birmingham for the duration? Maybe Cassie’s granny would like a holiday?’

  One Thursday morning, as Cassie was helping Lily to clean the little house from top to bottom, she heard somebody knock on the front door.

  It would be the rent man, she decided. Or the life insurance man, collecting Lily’s weekly sixpence. Or bloody Mrs Flynn, come cadging something yet again.

  She thought – oh, let them wait, they can come back some other time. Lily was getting very deaf these days, and so she probably wouldn’t hear them. Cassie herself was busy in the shrine, for dusting and polishing all the junk and clutter in the shrine was one of Cassie’s daily chores.

  Since she and Lily weren’t expecting company, Cassie wore an old grey cotton dress which was more than ready for the rag bag, a pair of battered, down-at-heel black shoes, and darned brown socks of which a tinker would have been ashamed.

  She had her hair tied up in a red duster, her eyebrows needed plucking, and there wasn’t a single scrap of make-up on her face.

  Somebody knocked again, much louder this time.

  Lily looked up from polishing and frowned. ‘There’s someone at the door, our Cass,’ she said. ‘It’ll be the rent man. The money’s on the shelf behind the Coronation caddy. Go and pay him, duck?’

  Cassie picked up the silver coins and went through to the parlour. She opened the front door.

  ‘Hello, Cassie,’ Robert said.

  She could see all the neighbours’ curtains twitching. Some urchins had stopped fighting or playing knucklebones and turned to stare at them. The rent man suddenly came from round the corner, as if this was a play.

  ‘Rob?’

  She thought she must be seeing things, that she was in a dream. ‘W-what do you want?’ she asked him frowning, still not sure if he was real.

  ‘I want to see you, of course,’ said Robert. ‘I want to meet your granny.’

  ‘I suppose you’d best come in,’ she said.

  Cassie led Robert through the parlour, past the shrine and into the back kitchen, which looked out on to the brick-paved yard, the mangle and the lavatory – not beautiful green fields.

  ‘Gran, this is Mr Denham,’ she told Lily.

  ‘Oh?’ Lily was even smaller, bonier and more wizened nowadays, but her blue eyes were bright. ‘You’re not our usual rent man,’ she began suspiciously.

  ‘He’s not the rent man, Gran,’ said Cassie, raising her voice and bending close to Lily’s better ear. ‘He’s – I worked for his mother in the country, back in ’42.’

  ‘You left something behind, then?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ said Cassie, but only to herself.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Taylor,’ Robert said politely, offering his hand.

  ‘Good morning, son.’ Lily looked their visitor up and down. When Robert knocked, she had been busy polishing a little metal statue of the Virgin which Cassie’s mother won for having the best writing in her class in 1908. Thanks to constant rubbing, the Virgin’s gentle face had worn away.

  ‘I won’t shake your hand, if you don’t mind,’ continued Lily. ‘My own’s all over Brasso. Well,’ she said to Cassie, ‘don’t just stand there, looking like a slice of week-old pudding. Why don’t you make the lad a cup of tea?’

  ‘W-will you have a cup of tea?’ asked Cassie.

  ‘Thank you, that would be very nice,’ said Robert. ‘But only if it isn’t any trouble.’

  ‘We were just about to have a brew. Go on, son,’ said Lily, pointing to the other kitchen chair. ‘Sit yourself down there. Cassie, I think we’ve got a tin of ’vaporated milk.’

  ‘I thought we were keeping that for Sunday?’

  ‘Oh, get it down,’ said Lily, ‘open it. We don’t get visitors from the country every day.’

  They drank their milky tea from thick white cups, Lily blowing on hers to cool it down, slurping it through her false teeth, and letting it slop messily in the saucer.

  ‘How have you been?’ asked Robert.

  ‘All right, I suppose,’ said Cassie, shrugging.

&
nbsp; ‘Do you have a job yet?’

  ‘No, the jobs round here are all for men, unless you’re on the game or want to clean the public lavatories. I went for an interview to drive a bus.’

  ‘How did you get on?’

  ‘They laughed at me. They said I was too small to drive a modern double-decker, and anyway they only wanted blokes. They didn’t want any women.’

  There was an awkward silence. Then Lily got up and said that she was sorry, but she had to pop across the road to Mrs Reed’s, because she hadn’t paid her club.

  ‘I’ll go and pay her later, Granny,’ Cassie said. ‘Sit down and drink your tea.’

  ‘No, I must go now, while I remember. You stay here and pay the rent.’ Lily picked up some coppers from the table, scuttled off, and Cassie heard the front door slam.

  Cassie and Robert looked at one another across the kitchen table. Robert seemed to fill the little kitchen, and Cassie wished he wasn’t quite so close, and that she couldn’t hear him breathing, see the tiny crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, streaked white against his sunburn.

  ‘Cassie,’ he began.

  ‘We can’t talk here,’ said Cassie. ‘Mrs Flynn next door, she’ll have seen you come into the house, and she’ll have her glass against the wall, and anyway the rent man’s due this minute.’

  ‘So when the rent man’s been, could we go out?’

  ‘Where did you have in mind?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Robert lamely. ‘Maybe to a park, or something?’

  ‘We’re miles from any parks.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to entertain the curious Mrs Flynn.’ Robert lowered his voice. ‘Cassie, I must tell you – ’

  ‘What are you doing nowadays, are you still in the army?’

  ‘Yes, but I signed on for the duration, not for twenty years, so they’ll be glad to pay me off.’ Robert shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ve had more than enough of killing people, hurting them. I don’t want to be responsible for hurting anybody any more.’

  ‘So what will you do now?’

  ‘Well, of course Mum wants me to run the farm. But I’m not very keen. I’d prefer to get a tenant in, and maybe Mum could go and live in Charton.’

  ‘What would you like to do?’

  ‘I want to train to be a teacher,’ Robert said. ‘I think I would be good at it.’

  ‘Where would you be teaching, then – at Eton?’’

  ‘I want to teach in state schools, actually.’ Robert shrugged again. ‘While I was in the army, I kept meeting men and NCOs who hadn’t had the opportunities which I had as a child. But many of them were better, braver, smarter and more honourable than me. Lots of them got killed. Their sons and daughters deserve a decent future, and I’d like to help to see they get one. I’m looking into teacher training courses for ex-servicemen.’

  Then Robert smiled a wry, ironic smile. ‘I know I’ll take some stick for being a nob.’

  ‘Yes, you will,’ said Cassie, but she was impressed. ‘You said you didn’t want to hurt anybody any more. But you’ll have to whack the kids, you know, that’s if you want them to respect you.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Robert calmly. ‘Cassie, I have no excuse for what I did in Italy. But couldn’t you forgive me?’

  ‘Yes, oh yes!’ cried Cassie, but only to herself. ‘Robert, I forgave you long ago!’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said the grinning devil who stood at Cassie’s side.

  ‘Surely your religion seeks to pardon the repentant sinner?’

  ‘You’re not repentant,’ sneered the devil.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ said Robert. ‘I wish it had been different. But I can’t change the past.’

  ‘So would you, if you could?’

  ‘I liked Sofia very much,’ said Robert candidly. ‘I admired her, she was very brave. I hope she’ll marry an Italian, have some children, and be happy. But Cassie, she’s not you.’

  ‘No, and I bet she’s nothing like me.’ Cassie sighed and shook her head, glancing round the shabby little kitchen, at the well-scoured pots and pans, at the ancient gas stove with its polished metal taps, at the powdery, white-washed, damp-stained walls.

  ‘My mother married a bigamist, you know,’ she said to Robert. ‘She died while she was having me, and back through there’s her shrine, kept polished up and dusted by my mad old granny. She’s still beside herself with grief. You could do much better for yourself.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Cass.’

  ‘Do you love me?’ Cassie asked him, but inside her head. ‘If you do, I need to hear you say it!’

  But he didn’t.

  ‘Look, Cass,’ he continued, ‘if you’re not working yet, why don’t you come and visit us in Dorset? Come and see Mum and Tinker. Bring your granny. I’m sure she’d like a holiday at the seaside.’

  ‘I dare say she would. My poor old granny – I don’t think she’s ever seen the sea.’

  ‘You’ll come?’

  ‘We’ll think about it,’ Cassie said.

  ‘Good,’ said Robert, standing up. ‘I’ll get Mum to write to Mrs Taylor.’

  ‘There’s still some tea left in the pot,’ said Cassie desperately. ‘So if you’d like another cup – ’

  ‘Thank you, but I must go and get my train.’

  Cassie watched him walk off down the road.

  It hadn’t turned out the way she’d hoped, as she had prayed, as she’d expected. Although she’d willed and willed it, he hadn’t tried to kiss her, he hadn’t even tried to touch her hand.

  Then something caught her eye. She glanced towards the shelf which held the statue of Saint Bernadette, and saw he’d left her silver bracelet there.

  She could see her reflection in the little mirror by the statue. She looked ridiculous – no wonder he had smiled.

  She pulled the duster off her head. She ran out of the house and after him. ‘Robert, stop!’ she panted, as the neighbours all came out to stare, and all the street kids scattered. ‘Robert, wait a minute!’

  He turned and looked at her, he stopped, he patted all his pockets. ‘I’m sorry, Cassie,’ he said frowning, obviously puzzled. ‘Have I forgotten something?’

  ‘You – ’

  Cassie stood there panting, trying to get her breath back. She had to say the words, she had to tell him that she loved him, that she’d always love him, that she had forgiven him weeks ago.

  ‘I forgot to tell you – ’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I love you.’ She stood there on the pavement, feeling sick and stupid, staring up at him, listening to the seconds clumping by in hobnailed boots, not daring to draw breath.

  ‘I love you, too,’ he said, and Cassie breathed again.

  Of course he couldn’t, wouldn’t kiss her, not in front of all these gawping children and bloody Mrs Flynn. He couldn’t hug her, he couldn’t hold her tight.

  But he could smile his special Robert smile, the one that made her feel she was glowing, that she could walk on water.

  ‘I’ll see you in Dorset, then,’ she said.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘I’ve not been on a proper train since 1926,’ said Lily, sitting down on the window seat which Cassie had shoved past all the other passengers to get. ‘Now, where’s my brolly?’

  ‘I’ve put it on the rack, Gran.’

  ‘Where’s me hat?’

  ‘It’s on your head.’

  ‘You got the flask and sandwiches?’

  ‘Yes, they’re in my bag.’

  ‘Well, isn’t all this grand?’ Lily Taylor looked all round the second class carriage, eyeing up the window blinds, feeling the quality of the cut moquette, patting the arm rests complacently. ‘You say those folks in Dorset paid for this?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Denham sent the money for the fares.’

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘She’s very kind.’

  ‘She’s rich?’

  ‘She isn’t rich, but she can afford to pay our fares.’ Cassie wille
d her granny to shut up. All the other passengers were staring.

  Robert met the train at Charton station, in the little pony trap which Cassie used to drive. He made Lily Taylor comfortable, wrapping her old knees in shawls and blankets.

  Their journey on the train had been inland. So now, when Lily saw the sea, she was amazed.

  ‘So this is it,’ she said, as Robert reined the pony in so she could stop and stare at the long, curving shingle beach, and at the foam-flecked waves. ‘Well, who would have thought it? Look at it, our Cassie. It’s so big, so powerful!’

  ‘It’s just a lot of water, Gran.’ Cassie gave her granny’s hand a gentle squeeze. ‘It’s very calm today. But you should see it in the winter, when there’s been a storm.’

  ‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind,’ said Lily, shuddering.

  Rose Denham was as kind and welcoming as Cassie had known she’d be. She ushered Lily Taylor into the cottage kitchen, asked about her journey, and poured her several cups of strong, dark tea, appearing not to notice when Lily spilled it on the clean white tablecloth because she was so nervous.

  ‘This way, Granny,’ Cassie said, as she helped Lily up the stairs into the bedroom where the twins had slept when she’d first come to Melbury.

  ‘You’ll be sleeping in the other bed?’ demanded Lily

  ‘Yes, of course I will.’

  Looking round the room, Cassie could see it had been freshly painted, that there were new covers on the beds and crisp new curtains at the window. There was a new china bowl and ewer on the marble washstand. There was a pink cake of scented soap, and fluffy, snow-white towels.

  Rose had done them proud.

  ‘What about that lad?’ asked Lily, who’d been counting doors as they came up the twisting staircase. ‘Where’s he going to sleep?’

  ‘He’ll be in the room along the landing.’

  ‘I hope he doesn’t snore.’

  ‘He doesn’t, Granny,’ Cassie said, then blushed. ‘I mean, he didn’t when I was living here in 1942.’

  Lily Taylor gave her a sharp, old-fashioned look.

  At supper, Robert made an obvious effort to make Lily feel relaxed and welcome. Cassie blessed him for it, remembering how she had felt at her first supper in this very kitchen, when he’d glowered and glared and said that she should eat the skin of her potato.