A Ruthless Need, page 26
‘Then I’ll expect you too.’
‘Wait a minute…’
‘Goodbye, Mrs Price. We’ll be seeing each other.’
The line went dead and Meg held the mouthpiece from her and stared at it as she said, ‘Me go to Scotland? And into a place like that, with them kind of folk? No, no. I’ll put her on the train; that’s as far as I’ll go…’
When the phone rang Meg just happened to be in the sitting room and she went out hastily and picked it up. It was Mrs Boneford politely enquiring if she could speak to Lizzie.
‘Yes, yes, Mrs Boneford. I’ll get her for you.’
Trotting across the hall, she mounted halfway up the stairs; then in a carrying voice she yelled, ‘Lizzie! Lizzie! You’re wanted on the phone!’
It was some seconds before Lizzie appeared at the top of the stairs and she was taking them slowly until Meg said, ‘Put a move on, lass; it’s Mrs Boneford.’
Still Lizzie didn’t hurry, and when she picked up the phone, she said, ‘Hello, Edith,’ and the voice replied, ‘Hello, Lizzie,’ and then went quickly and quietly on saying, ‘Listen to me, Lizzie. You are to get on the train tomorrow morning with Mrs Price and come straight here. Do you hear me? I am not going to discuss it with you. I am telling you what you must do. Just bring your light luggage with you; the rest can be picked up later.’
‘I…I can’t, Edith, no.’
‘Listen to me. If you don’t, then it only means that after Richard returns tomorrow night he will have to make the journey into South Shields to your friend’s house, because that is where she says you are going. Now to save a lot of bother, my dear girl, do as I say. We are longing to see you. Get the same train as you did before and the trap will be waiting in the same place. Now I’m not going to argue. Whichever way you decide to come, whether it be on your own tomorrow or under escort from Richard, you are coming here.’
As Lizzie was about to speak again the phone clicked. She gave a gasp, put her hand to her throat as if she were choking, dropped the receiver on to the stand, then turned and ran across the hall, continued to run up the stairs and into the bedroom; and there, flinging herself on the bed, she gave way to a paroxysm of weeping.
Meg had followed her, and when she reached the bed she didn’t touch her but sat on the foot and let her cry it out, and not until the sound of her sobbing subsided did she put her hands on Lizzie’s shoulder, saying, ‘There, it’s out of you. Now to business. You can sort out the stuff that you need to take with you and have the rest sent on.’
Lizzie now turned and sat up, then rose from the bed and, going to the wash-hand stand, she took her towel from the rail and wiped her face before turning to Meg and saying, ‘If I go there, you’re going with me.’
‘Oh, no, lass, no. Apart from everything else, I wouldn’t fit in, not from what you told me. I hardly fitted in here and these are not gentry.’
‘Meg, I can’t do without you, at least for a time. I…I sort of…I’m lost. They’re all wonderful at that end, really wonderful people, but…but I’ve lived with you for quite some time, even before Bertha died, and you’re more like a mother to me than she was—she was always a teacher—and…and you know all about me, all about everything that’s happened. I need you, Meg. If you don’t come with me, I’ll go with you down to Shields. So there you have it. Just…just for a time, until I get myself pulled together again.’
‘Aw.’ Meg wriggled her body like a dog throwing off water as she said, ‘Well, since you put it like that, I suppose I’ll have to. But they’ll get a shock, mind; I’m not everybody’s cup of tea.’
‘You’ll be theirs.’
‘Let’s hope you’re right, but knowin’ meself I doubt it, ’cos I’m too old to change an’ put on manners; in fact, I wouldn’t know how, ’cos I’ve never had any. Anyway, that’s settled. Now what you’ve got to do, lass, is to see John and hear what he’s got to say, and then we’ll be off first thing in the morning.’
What John had to say was in keeping with his attitude towards Lizzie over the past months. He was sitting in his chair and didn’t look towards her, but leaned towards the fire and knocked his pipe against the bars, and in answer to what she had just said, which was, ‘Well, Dad, I suppose you’ve learned all about it,’ he answered with, ‘I hear you intend to leave us, just like that.’
‘Not just like that, Dad. I’ve been given the option of having another woman come into this house or taking her place in Durham. What would you expect me to do?’
He now turned and looked at her and said harshly, ‘Consider all that’s been done for you, over the past years, that’s just what I would expect you to do, Lizzie. And if my son wants to marry someone, well, that’s up to him. That’s how I see it.’
‘Even if the someone is who she is?’
‘That’s his business and hers. And after all, this is still my house, and you’re still at liberty to stay here with your child, but you are not at liberty to say who else comes into it.’
Her voice rising now, she said, ‘What would you have said if, before Christmas, your son had told you he wanted to marry me?’
‘I would have said it wasn’t a good thing. You’re not brother and sister, no, but your natures are not fitted.’
She took in one long-drawn breath before she said, ‘No; you’re right there, Mr Fulton.’
Hearing her refer to him by his surname he turned his head sharply towards her, his mouth in a slight gape, and she left him gaping further as she said, ‘I had a child, but I’m not a whore, so therefore your son’s nature and mine don’t fit. He’s certainly picked someone more like himself. I hope you’ll enjoy living with your daughter-in-law.’
‘Lizzie, how dare…!’
‘Don’t you say that! I’m speaking the truth and you know it. I’m going now. I’ll be gone from this house in the morning and I should say thank you for the years of care, but when I think back, I worked for all I got. I was used as a maid for years. That’s what I was engaged for, wasn’t it? Even when I went to the typing school I had to do the chores when I returned. And when I began to earn, I tipped everything up, and she gave me pocket money; but I didn’t mind, I was in a way repaying her for the music lessons, and those I’ve always been grateful for. Yet she’d always said she was saving for me and I would have a nice little bit when I married. But it’s strange, isn’t it, that when she died I was left her wristwatch; no money, nothing else, and all because I had sinned. One thing I did learn from her: good people can be mean at heart.’
‘Get out! I never thought to hear you say such things about my wife. You are an ungrateful individual. You have been harboured in this house for seven years, treated as a daughter. She even loved you…’
She took two paces back from him now and, her face grim, she said, ‘She didn’t, else she would have forgiven the so-called mistake I made. What your wife wanted from the beginning, I know now, was a pupil. Someone she could coach and dominate in her sweet, persistent way; but love, no. She loved one person and that wasn’t even you; it was her son, and I hope, wherever she is, she will be happy in the daughter-in-law that’s going to take her place in this house that was her pride.’
He was too angry for speech. She saw that his body was shivering—it was almost a repeat of Geoff’s attitude—and that he would like to strike her. She turned and went out of the room and up the stairs and finished gathering together the rest of her belongings which, when all was packed, didn’t amount to all that much.
Seven
‘Eeh my! I thought all the kind folks lived in Shields, but haven’t people been helpful?’ They were sitting in the bus on the last lap of the journey. The conductor had taken two suitcases, a string bag and two carrier bags and placed them under the stairs, a man had got up and given Meg his seat, and a young boy had done the same for Lizzie and the baby. And when Meg shouted across the aisle to where Lizzie was sitting three seats further up on the opposite side, ‘I like Scotland already,’ the people within earshot laughed and some of them enquired, ‘Where are you from?’ And of course Meg was only too pleased to answer, ‘Durham, County Durham. We’ve come all the way from there the day.’
‘By! that’s some way. Where are you going now?’
‘Up in the hills, as far as I can gather, to a place called Beckside Hall.’
‘Beckside!’ There were glances exchanged among strangers, and one person said, ‘Oh. Oh, aye, but that’s some way out. Bus doesn’t go anywhere near there.’
‘No, I know; but we’re being met.’
And so it went on until the bus had almost emptied, leaving them, apart from two other people, the only passengers. And then they alighted and the bus conductor hopped off the bus and put their cases and the packages on the roadside and waved to them as the bus moved away…
Lizzie looked about her, and there, further up the road at the entrance to the lane, was the trap. Standing beside it was a woman, a youngish woman.
Before she was halfway to them the young woman was calling, ‘Hello! there. Right on time. And I’ve just got here.’ She was now looking at Lizzie and saying, ‘I’m Jean McKenzie. Matty’s got the rheumatics bad and…and I think Edith told you, Richard won’t be back until this evening.’
She was holding out her hand, and Lizzie, hugging the child to her, took it, and with a weary smile she said, ‘Well, I’m Lizzie, and this is Jane.’ She nodded down towards the child, and the young woman said, ‘Oh, isn’t she lovely!’ Then turning to Meg, she said, ‘And you are Meg?’ and Meg answered, ‘Aye, I’m Meg.’
‘Let me take those cases.’ Jean McKenzie bent down and effortlessly lifted the two suitcases, saying, ‘What was the journey like? I hope you didn’t have to stand. It’s terrible these days. When I came up from Portsmouth I had to stand all the way.’
Even before Lizzie was settled in the trap she had realised that this Jean McKenzie appeared to be a very capable young woman, though not so young as she had at first imagined. She must be thirty or thereabouts. She was tall with a very slim figure, an abundance of fair hair and, below it, an attractive face with big, round, brown eyes. She talked most of the time, hardly waiting for either of them to answer.
They were bowling along the road when she turned her head and, glancing at Lizzie, she said, ‘Richard will be pleased to see you. He’s told me a lot about you. Richard and I were brought up together, you know. Well, I say brought up together’—she laughed now—‘until I was seven and he was nine, when he went to boarding school, and I was packed off shortly after that. Then it was mostly during the holidays that we met up and romped together.’
Meg, who was sitting on the opposite side of the trap and next to the young woman, who had her back half-turned towards her, exchanged a glance with Lizzie, and Lizzie, turning her gaze away from what Meg’s message might contain, said, ‘How is Richard these days?’
‘Oh, he’s splendid. He’s had another trip to hospital and they’re doing a marvellous job on him. We are all so relieved. We went shopping in the town last weekend, and…and, you know, he wasn’t a bit embarrassed, as he used to be. Oh, it was wonderful to see the change in him.’
Again Meg caught Lizzie’s eye, and held her gaze now, and there was a similar thought in both their minds: was she jumping from the frying pan into the fire?
She had hardly slept a wink last night. As hour after hour passed she had become more aware that she was relieved how things had turned out, and she had realised where her true feelings lay. She recalled that Richard had said he would never ask her to marry him, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care for her. Well, given time, she would do the asking. And now, here was this girl…no, this woman, speaking of her closeness with Richard, breaking the ice, sort of. Oh, yes, she was definitely breaking the ice to let her know how things stood. She was the kind of person who wouldn’t have waited for Richard to propose; in her breezy forthright way, she would have put the question and settled the business once and for all. It was a kind of sardonic joke, wasn’t it? That she was walking into a situation similar to the one from which she had flown just a few hours ago.
And that word ‘joke’. Mr Honeysett had mentioned it.
A half-hour before the bus was due she had taken the case along to the bus stop and Meg had carried the bags, and she had left her there to return for the child and odd bits and pieces. Geoff had not put in an appearance and his father must have gone to work some time earlier, for she saw no-one, and when she left the house for the last time she did not even stop to look around the kitchen; she wanted to get away and as quickly as possible. At the gate she had run into Ted Honeysett. He was pushing his barrow and, without any greeting, he had said, ‘Going for the bus?’ And she had answered, ‘Yes, Mr Honeysett.’
‘Well, put your bundles on me cart,’ he said; and this she had done, then walked by his side in silence until they came within sight of Meg sitting on her case, when he had remarked, ‘Takin’ a holiday?’
‘No, Mr Honeysett; we’re leaving.’
He had shown no surprise but said, ‘Oh aye?’ then had added casually, ‘’Cos of her?’
She had glanced at him, and he returned her look nodding and saying, ‘Oh, I get about, Lizzie, I get about,’ which had brought to mind John’s summing-up of Ted Honeysett, that he knew more than was good for him. And she had realised that he must always have been aware of the situation. And so when, as if seeking further enlightenment, he had added, ‘He was always a bit of a joker, you know, even as a young lad. Could always cap anything you said, turn it funny, like. But then there are things that go beyond a joke. I don’t dislike him, you know, so I hope this joke will keep him laughin’ for a time, anyway. What d’you say, lass?’ she had gone along with him and said, ‘Yes, Mr Honeysett, I hope this joke will keep him laughing.’
‘There you are then.’ And he had taken the bundles from the cart and placed them at the side of Meg, saying, ‘You off an’ all on your holidays?’
‘Yes, Mr Honeysett, I’m off an’ all on me holidays.’
‘And where are you bound for?’
‘Germany, to see Mr Hitler.’
He had grinned as he remarked, ‘Ask a straight question and you get a silly answer.’ Then turning to look down on Meg again, he added quietly, ‘When you see him, ask him to deal kindly with our Billy, will you? He’s had him a prisoner for the last two years.’
Meg had pulled herself up off the top of the case, and, her tone altering, had said, ‘I’m sorry; I didn’t know.’
‘No; well, there’s no reason why you should, or that my second lad is in minesweepers, and Katie and Carol are in the WAAFS, and my young Fred’s a mechanic in the Air Force, and Nancy, me youngest, she’s with a concert party somewhere, making the lads laugh. She could make a corpse laugh, that one. Well’—he had turned back to address Lizzie again—‘wherever you’re goin’ I wish you luck, lass,’ and she said softly, ‘Thank you, Mr Honeysett, and…and for your kindness one way and another over the years.’
‘Aw, lass, whatever I’ve done for you has been nowt compared with what I’ve done and am doin’ for others and likely get a kick up the backside for me pains in the end. Anyway, good luck to you, and to you, Mrs Meg.’
‘Thank you, Mr Honeysett. I’m sorry I was sharp. I feel sharp this mornin’, upset, like.’
‘Aye, I understand. May I ask now if you’re bound for Shields?’
‘No, no; we’re not.’
‘Oh, well then.’ He had looked fully at Lizzie, saying, ‘In that case, give Mr Richard my regards. A nice fellow, Mr Richard. No trace of the joker there. Good luck to you both.’ Then taking up the handles of his flat cart, he pushed it away, leaving them both staring after him.
Meg said, ‘How could he know where we are goin’?’
Lizzie had hitched the child from one arm to the other before she answered, ‘He’s cleverer than people make him out to be, in fact he’s cleverer than most around here.’
‘Funny, but I never liked him.’ Meg had pursed her lips. ‘I thought he was sly, but the way he just put me in me place, givin’ me the list of his family, I feel I’ve sort of misjudged him. He was likely brought up to pinch and scrape. It’s second nature to him. But’—she turned and looked at Lizzie—‘what did he mean about Mr Richard not being a joker?’
Yes. What did he mean by that? But if he turned out to be one in this case, he would be an unconscious one.
She had the desire to cry…not burst into tears, but just to cry quietly.
The woman’s voice broke in on her thoughts again, saying, ‘We were thinking of having a little celebration this weekend; a party, with a few friends in. I’m glad you’ve come. You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure.’
As Lizzie looked at the woman’s profile she saw that behind all her chatter she was tense. Did she sense her as a rival? Well, she needn’t. No, she needn’t. She would stay for a few days and then she would go back to Shields with Meg. She recalled that she had left the pram and three cardboard boxes of bits and pieces in the outhouse. She had got in touch with the Bramleys last night and asked them to pick them up whenever they would be coming this way, which could be next week or next month, or weeks ahead; it all depended. Anyway, she could phone and redirect them. That’s all there was to be done.
‘Aunt Edith and Uncle James are so excited about your coming; they are dying to see the baby.’
So it was Aunt Edith and Uncle James. Of course she would have to give them those titles, she supposed, having known them since she was a child.
She again looked at her profile. The head was held high, the shoulders pressed back. She could see her tramping the moors, climbing the mountains, riding to hounds. Oh yes, she would fit in at the Hall. She was born for it. Oh dear God! She wished she hadn’t come. She again thought of Ted and his reference to the joker. But the joke seemed to be on her, and it was painful, more than she had imagined possible.
‘Wait a minute…’
‘Goodbye, Mrs Price. We’ll be seeing each other.’
The line went dead and Meg held the mouthpiece from her and stared at it as she said, ‘Me go to Scotland? And into a place like that, with them kind of folk? No, no. I’ll put her on the train; that’s as far as I’ll go…’
When the phone rang Meg just happened to be in the sitting room and she went out hastily and picked it up. It was Mrs Boneford politely enquiring if she could speak to Lizzie.
‘Yes, yes, Mrs Boneford. I’ll get her for you.’
Trotting across the hall, she mounted halfway up the stairs; then in a carrying voice she yelled, ‘Lizzie! Lizzie! You’re wanted on the phone!’
It was some seconds before Lizzie appeared at the top of the stairs and she was taking them slowly until Meg said, ‘Put a move on, lass; it’s Mrs Boneford.’
Still Lizzie didn’t hurry, and when she picked up the phone, she said, ‘Hello, Edith,’ and the voice replied, ‘Hello, Lizzie,’ and then went quickly and quietly on saying, ‘Listen to me, Lizzie. You are to get on the train tomorrow morning with Mrs Price and come straight here. Do you hear me? I am not going to discuss it with you. I am telling you what you must do. Just bring your light luggage with you; the rest can be picked up later.’
‘I…I can’t, Edith, no.’
‘Listen to me. If you don’t, then it only means that after Richard returns tomorrow night he will have to make the journey into South Shields to your friend’s house, because that is where she says you are going. Now to save a lot of bother, my dear girl, do as I say. We are longing to see you. Get the same train as you did before and the trap will be waiting in the same place. Now I’m not going to argue. Whichever way you decide to come, whether it be on your own tomorrow or under escort from Richard, you are coming here.’
As Lizzie was about to speak again the phone clicked. She gave a gasp, put her hand to her throat as if she were choking, dropped the receiver on to the stand, then turned and ran across the hall, continued to run up the stairs and into the bedroom; and there, flinging herself on the bed, she gave way to a paroxysm of weeping.
Meg had followed her, and when she reached the bed she didn’t touch her but sat on the foot and let her cry it out, and not until the sound of her sobbing subsided did she put her hands on Lizzie’s shoulder, saying, ‘There, it’s out of you. Now to business. You can sort out the stuff that you need to take with you and have the rest sent on.’
Lizzie now turned and sat up, then rose from the bed and, going to the wash-hand stand, she took her towel from the rail and wiped her face before turning to Meg and saying, ‘If I go there, you’re going with me.’
‘Oh, no, lass, no. Apart from everything else, I wouldn’t fit in, not from what you told me. I hardly fitted in here and these are not gentry.’
‘Meg, I can’t do without you, at least for a time. I…I sort of…I’m lost. They’re all wonderful at that end, really wonderful people, but…but I’ve lived with you for quite some time, even before Bertha died, and you’re more like a mother to me than she was—she was always a teacher—and…and you know all about me, all about everything that’s happened. I need you, Meg. If you don’t come with me, I’ll go with you down to Shields. So there you have it. Just…just for a time, until I get myself pulled together again.’
‘Aw.’ Meg wriggled her body like a dog throwing off water as she said, ‘Well, since you put it like that, I suppose I’ll have to. But they’ll get a shock, mind; I’m not everybody’s cup of tea.’
‘You’ll be theirs.’
‘Let’s hope you’re right, but knowin’ meself I doubt it, ’cos I’m too old to change an’ put on manners; in fact, I wouldn’t know how, ’cos I’ve never had any. Anyway, that’s settled. Now what you’ve got to do, lass, is to see John and hear what he’s got to say, and then we’ll be off first thing in the morning.’
What John had to say was in keeping with his attitude towards Lizzie over the past months. He was sitting in his chair and didn’t look towards her, but leaned towards the fire and knocked his pipe against the bars, and in answer to what she had just said, which was, ‘Well, Dad, I suppose you’ve learned all about it,’ he answered with, ‘I hear you intend to leave us, just like that.’
‘Not just like that, Dad. I’ve been given the option of having another woman come into this house or taking her place in Durham. What would you expect me to do?’
He now turned and looked at her and said harshly, ‘Consider all that’s been done for you, over the past years, that’s just what I would expect you to do, Lizzie. And if my son wants to marry someone, well, that’s up to him. That’s how I see it.’
‘Even if the someone is who she is?’
‘That’s his business and hers. And after all, this is still my house, and you’re still at liberty to stay here with your child, but you are not at liberty to say who else comes into it.’
Her voice rising now, she said, ‘What would you have said if, before Christmas, your son had told you he wanted to marry me?’
‘I would have said it wasn’t a good thing. You’re not brother and sister, no, but your natures are not fitted.’
She took in one long-drawn breath before she said, ‘No; you’re right there, Mr Fulton.’
Hearing her refer to him by his surname he turned his head sharply towards her, his mouth in a slight gape, and she left him gaping further as she said, ‘I had a child, but I’m not a whore, so therefore your son’s nature and mine don’t fit. He’s certainly picked someone more like himself. I hope you’ll enjoy living with your daughter-in-law.’
‘Lizzie, how dare…!’
‘Don’t you say that! I’m speaking the truth and you know it. I’m going now. I’ll be gone from this house in the morning and I should say thank you for the years of care, but when I think back, I worked for all I got. I was used as a maid for years. That’s what I was engaged for, wasn’t it? Even when I went to the typing school I had to do the chores when I returned. And when I began to earn, I tipped everything up, and she gave me pocket money; but I didn’t mind, I was in a way repaying her for the music lessons, and those I’ve always been grateful for. Yet she’d always said she was saving for me and I would have a nice little bit when I married. But it’s strange, isn’t it, that when she died I was left her wristwatch; no money, nothing else, and all because I had sinned. One thing I did learn from her: good people can be mean at heart.’
‘Get out! I never thought to hear you say such things about my wife. You are an ungrateful individual. You have been harboured in this house for seven years, treated as a daughter. She even loved you…’
She took two paces back from him now and, her face grim, she said, ‘She didn’t, else she would have forgiven the so-called mistake I made. What your wife wanted from the beginning, I know now, was a pupil. Someone she could coach and dominate in her sweet, persistent way; but love, no. She loved one person and that wasn’t even you; it was her son, and I hope, wherever she is, she will be happy in the daughter-in-law that’s going to take her place in this house that was her pride.’
He was too angry for speech. She saw that his body was shivering—it was almost a repeat of Geoff’s attitude—and that he would like to strike her. She turned and went out of the room and up the stairs and finished gathering together the rest of her belongings which, when all was packed, didn’t amount to all that much.
Seven
‘Eeh my! I thought all the kind folks lived in Shields, but haven’t people been helpful?’ They were sitting in the bus on the last lap of the journey. The conductor had taken two suitcases, a string bag and two carrier bags and placed them under the stairs, a man had got up and given Meg his seat, and a young boy had done the same for Lizzie and the baby. And when Meg shouted across the aisle to where Lizzie was sitting three seats further up on the opposite side, ‘I like Scotland already,’ the people within earshot laughed and some of them enquired, ‘Where are you from?’ And of course Meg was only too pleased to answer, ‘Durham, County Durham. We’ve come all the way from there the day.’
‘By! that’s some way. Where are you going now?’
‘Up in the hills, as far as I can gather, to a place called Beckside Hall.’
‘Beckside!’ There were glances exchanged among strangers, and one person said, ‘Oh. Oh, aye, but that’s some way out. Bus doesn’t go anywhere near there.’
‘No, I know; but we’re being met.’
And so it went on until the bus had almost emptied, leaving them, apart from two other people, the only passengers. And then they alighted and the bus conductor hopped off the bus and put their cases and the packages on the roadside and waved to them as the bus moved away…
Lizzie looked about her, and there, further up the road at the entrance to the lane, was the trap. Standing beside it was a woman, a youngish woman.
Before she was halfway to them the young woman was calling, ‘Hello! there. Right on time. And I’ve just got here.’ She was now looking at Lizzie and saying, ‘I’m Jean McKenzie. Matty’s got the rheumatics bad and…and I think Edith told you, Richard won’t be back until this evening.’
She was holding out her hand, and Lizzie, hugging the child to her, took it, and with a weary smile she said, ‘Well, I’m Lizzie, and this is Jane.’ She nodded down towards the child, and the young woman said, ‘Oh, isn’t she lovely!’ Then turning to Meg, she said, ‘And you are Meg?’ and Meg answered, ‘Aye, I’m Meg.’
‘Let me take those cases.’ Jean McKenzie bent down and effortlessly lifted the two suitcases, saying, ‘What was the journey like? I hope you didn’t have to stand. It’s terrible these days. When I came up from Portsmouth I had to stand all the way.’
Even before Lizzie was settled in the trap she had realised that this Jean McKenzie appeared to be a very capable young woman, though not so young as she had at first imagined. She must be thirty or thereabouts. She was tall with a very slim figure, an abundance of fair hair and, below it, an attractive face with big, round, brown eyes. She talked most of the time, hardly waiting for either of them to answer.
They were bowling along the road when she turned her head and, glancing at Lizzie, she said, ‘Richard will be pleased to see you. He’s told me a lot about you. Richard and I were brought up together, you know. Well, I say brought up together’—she laughed now—‘until I was seven and he was nine, when he went to boarding school, and I was packed off shortly after that. Then it was mostly during the holidays that we met up and romped together.’
Meg, who was sitting on the opposite side of the trap and next to the young woman, who had her back half-turned towards her, exchanged a glance with Lizzie, and Lizzie, turning her gaze away from what Meg’s message might contain, said, ‘How is Richard these days?’
‘Oh, he’s splendid. He’s had another trip to hospital and they’re doing a marvellous job on him. We are all so relieved. We went shopping in the town last weekend, and…and, you know, he wasn’t a bit embarrassed, as he used to be. Oh, it was wonderful to see the change in him.’
Again Meg caught Lizzie’s eye, and held her gaze now, and there was a similar thought in both their minds: was she jumping from the frying pan into the fire?
She had hardly slept a wink last night. As hour after hour passed she had become more aware that she was relieved how things had turned out, and she had realised where her true feelings lay. She recalled that Richard had said he would never ask her to marry him, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care for her. Well, given time, she would do the asking. And now, here was this girl…no, this woman, speaking of her closeness with Richard, breaking the ice, sort of. Oh, yes, she was definitely breaking the ice to let her know how things stood. She was the kind of person who wouldn’t have waited for Richard to propose; in her breezy forthright way, she would have put the question and settled the business once and for all. It was a kind of sardonic joke, wasn’t it? That she was walking into a situation similar to the one from which she had flown just a few hours ago.
And that word ‘joke’. Mr Honeysett had mentioned it.
A half-hour before the bus was due she had taken the case along to the bus stop and Meg had carried the bags, and she had left her there to return for the child and odd bits and pieces. Geoff had not put in an appearance and his father must have gone to work some time earlier, for she saw no-one, and when she left the house for the last time she did not even stop to look around the kitchen; she wanted to get away and as quickly as possible. At the gate she had run into Ted Honeysett. He was pushing his barrow and, without any greeting, he had said, ‘Going for the bus?’ And she had answered, ‘Yes, Mr Honeysett.’
‘Well, put your bundles on me cart,’ he said; and this she had done, then walked by his side in silence until they came within sight of Meg sitting on her case, when he had remarked, ‘Takin’ a holiday?’
‘No, Mr Honeysett; we’re leaving.’
He had shown no surprise but said, ‘Oh aye?’ then had added casually, ‘’Cos of her?’
She had glanced at him, and he returned her look nodding and saying, ‘Oh, I get about, Lizzie, I get about,’ which had brought to mind John’s summing-up of Ted Honeysett, that he knew more than was good for him. And she had realised that he must always have been aware of the situation. And so when, as if seeking further enlightenment, he had added, ‘He was always a bit of a joker, you know, even as a young lad. Could always cap anything you said, turn it funny, like. But then there are things that go beyond a joke. I don’t dislike him, you know, so I hope this joke will keep him laughin’ for a time, anyway. What d’you say, lass?’ she had gone along with him and said, ‘Yes, Mr Honeysett, I hope this joke will keep him laughing.’
‘There you are then.’ And he had taken the bundles from the cart and placed them at the side of Meg, saying, ‘You off an’ all on your holidays?’
‘Yes, Mr Honeysett, I’m off an’ all on me holidays.’
‘And where are you bound for?’
‘Germany, to see Mr Hitler.’
He had grinned as he remarked, ‘Ask a straight question and you get a silly answer.’ Then turning to look down on Meg again, he added quietly, ‘When you see him, ask him to deal kindly with our Billy, will you? He’s had him a prisoner for the last two years.’
Meg had pulled herself up off the top of the case, and, her tone altering, had said, ‘I’m sorry; I didn’t know.’
‘No; well, there’s no reason why you should, or that my second lad is in minesweepers, and Katie and Carol are in the WAAFS, and my young Fred’s a mechanic in the Air Force, and Nancy, me youngest, she’s with a concert party somewhere, making the lads laugh. She could make a corpse laugh, that one. Well’—he had turned back to address Lizzie again—‘wherever you’re goin’ I wish you luck, lass,’ and she said softly, ‘Thank you, Mr Honeysett, and…and for your kindness one way and another over the years.’
‘Aw, lass, whatever I’ve done for you has been nowt compared with what I’ve done and am doin’ for others and likely get a kick up the backside for me pains in the end. Anyway, good luck to you, and to you, Mrs Meg.’
‘Thank you, Mr Honeysett. I’m sorry I was sharp. I feel sharp this mornin’, upset, like.’
‘Aye, I understand. May I ask now if you’re bound for Shields?’
‘No, no; we’re not.’
‘Oh, well then.’ He had looked fully at Lizzie, saying, ‘In that case, give Mr Richard my regards. A nice fellow, Mr Richard. No trace of the joker there. Good luck to you both.’ Then taking up the handles of his flat cart, he pushed it away, leaving them both staring after him.
Meg said, ‘How could he know where we are goin’?’
Lizzie had hitched the child from one arm to the other before she answered, ‘He’s cleverer than people make him out to be, in fact he’s cleverer than most around here.’
‘Funny, but I never liked him.’ Meg had pursed her lips. ‘I thought he was sly, but the way he just put me in me place, givin’ me the list of his family, I feel I’ve sort of misjudged him. He was likely brought up to pinch and scrape. It’s second nature to him. But’—she turned and looked at Lizzie—‘what did he mean about Mr Richard not being a joker?’
Yes. What did he mean by that? But if he turned out to be one in this case, he would be an unconscious one.
She had the desire to cry…not burst into tears, but just to cry quietly.
The woman’s voice broke in on her thoughts again, saying, ‘We were thinking of having a little celebration this weekend; a party, with a few friends in. I’m glad you’ve come. You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure.’
As Lizzie looked at the woman’s profile she saw that behind all her chatter she was tense. Did she sense her as a rival? Well, she needn’t. No, she needn’t. She would stay for a few days and then she would go back to Shields with Meg. She recalled that she had left the pram and three cardboard boxes of bits and pieces in the outhouse. She had got in touch with the Bramleys last night and asked them to pick them up whenever they would be coming this way, which could be next week or next month, or weeks ahead; it all depended. Anyway, she could phone and redirect them. That’s all there was to be done.
‘Aunt Edith and Uncle James are so excited about your coming; they are dying to see the baby.’
So it was Aunt Edith and Uncle James. Of course she would have to give them those titles, she supposed, having known them since she was a child.
She again looked at her profile. The head was held high, the shoulders pressed back. She could see her tramping the moors, climbing the mountains, riding to hounds. Oh yes, she would fit in at the Hall. She was born for it. Oh dear God! She wished she hadn’t come. She again thought of Ted and his reference to the joker. But the joke seemed to be on her, and it was painful, more than she had imagined possible.
