‘It says on his gravestone he was a tailor.’
Mr Jackson nodded approvingly, as though she had just passed a test. ‘That’s right. I believe he did a lot of sewing for the village at one time. He was too old for that when I knew him. His daughter had taken it on by then. You couldn’t easily buy ready-made clothes in those days. You either had to make your own or pay a tailor.’
Hope liked the idea of that. People wouldn’t have had so many garments, but what they did have would have been specially made for them. And from the evidence she had seen of Jane’s skills, they would have been good.
‘He was apparently no so well liked, old Matthew,’ said Mr Jackson musingly, putting a dampener on these happy thoughts. ‘I mind my father had something against him, although I can’t remember what. Maybe he was different when his wife was alive, but that was before my time. Why don’t you go and ask Mrs Slater what she can remember? She might be well into her nineties but she’s still sharp. I’m sure she’d be happy to talk to you.’
Hope thought of the tiny woman she had met at Luke and Clare’s wedding. The woman who had examined her with sharp, bird-like eyes as though she saw more than Hope would have liked. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Aye, you should. She won’t be with us for ever. Best to take the chance while you can.’
‘I don’t even know where she lives,’ said Hope.
‘She stays with her daughter in one of the bungalows near the Ashburys. Susie will know which one. She’s one of the lucky ones whose children didn’t go gallivanting off all over the globe.’
‘It’s nice to have Andrew visit, though, isn’t it?’ said Hope, glad to change the subject. ‘And he’s here for another ten days.’
‘Aye, so he is. Not that he’s in the house so very much. Keener to see his friends than his dad if you ask me.’
Hope didn’t rise to that. She knew how tiring Mr Jackson was finding his son’s visit, and that it was an understanding of this that made Andrew spend time away from Kirkside.
Chapter Twenty-one
The last person Hope expected to see walking across the gravel to the front door of Kirkside was Amy Jones. Andrew and Mark had taken Mr Jackson for a shopping trip to Dumfries. Hope was upstairs when she heard the footsteps and she looked out of the landing window. Her heart had leapt at the thought it might be Robbie, which was ridiculous as he was in Wales. When she saw Amy she really didn’t know what to think.
She heard the old-fashioned bell ring and still she didn’t move. What could her former friend possibly have to say that Hope would want to hear? She had hoped that part of her life was over.
The door bell rang again and with a sigh she went down to answer it.
Amy was a short, slightly plump girl with golden curls. Her taste in clothes used to tend towards low necks and very tight miniskirts, but today she looked oddly muted. She wore a black knitted dress over lilac leggings. Her expression was tense.
‘Hello.’ Hope stood on the doorstep above her former business partner. She didn’t know what to say to her.
‘Hi. Can I come in?’
Hope kept her hand on the door. ‘How did you find me?’
‘It wasn’t easy. You’d changed your mobile.’
‘I couldn’t afford the contract,’ said Hope bluntly.
Amy looked down and then took a breath and continued, ‘I got in touch with the accountant who was … winding up our business. He wouldn’t tell me where you were except you were a long way away. Then I remembered your Auntie Susie in Scotland and made a lucky guess.’
Hope pressed her lips together. It would be just like Susie to encourage Amy to visit; she had probably hoped for a touching reconciliation.
‘I suppose you’d better come in,’ she said ungraciously. She led the way to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil, just for something to do.
Amy took a seat at the table. ‘I came to apologise,’ she said.
Hope kept her back turned and said nothing. She was not going to accept the apology and pretend that made everything all right.
‘I know an apology isn’t enough,’ said Amy, her voice low. ‘I suppose I should explain, too.’
Hope swung round. ‘An explanation won’t be enough, either. You left me with nothing! You stole from me! You destroyed Material Things!’
‘I didn’t think you would have to close the shop,’ said Amy, her voice still low. ‘I suppose I should have realised, but I convinced myself you’d be able to carry on. That you’d be better off without me.’
Hope made two mugs of coffee and banged them down on the table.
‘I couldn’t possibly carry on. We were bankrupt.’ Her voice was quieter now. What was the point of shouting at Amy? It changed nothing.
‘I knew the shop was doing well,’ said Amy in that same low voice. ‘Yes, it was doing well, Hope, thanks to you. You knew the kinds of things to stock that people wanted to buy, and they liked buying from you. You didn’t need me there at all.’
‘It was a partnership,’ said Hope. She wasn’t going to accept this from Amy, a pretence that her leaving was for the best. ‘Anyway, if you wanted out why didn’t you just say so? Then maybe we could have salvaged something. As it was …’ Hope shuddered. She really didn’t want to remember the shock of finding herself alone.
‘I needed the money,’ said Amy, her voice so quiet now Hope could hardly hear her. ‘At least, Steve did. He convinced me that as half the business was mine I could take the cash and leave you with the rest.’ Hope gave an exclamation of disbelief and Amy hurried on. ‘I know, I know, I see now I made it impossible for you, but I wanted to believe him so I pretended he was right.’
Hope stirred her coffee and said nothing.
‘He wanted the money to invest in his brother’s mini-cab business,’ said Amy.
That at least was a surprise. Hope had assumed Steve had wanted it for drink or worse. Putting it in to a business was far too sensible. But he had probably lost it all by now.
‘And the business is doing quite well,’ said Amy. ‘We’re having to work hard but Steve and his brother think they can make a go of it.’
This time Hope did look up. Amy was now part of a successful venture whilst she, Hope, had dealt with the collapse of their last one and had lost the majority of her own money in doing so. ‘That must be nice for you,’ she said bitterly.
Amy’s expression had brightened as she spoke of her boyfriend, but now she looked down again. ‘They asked me to join them as a third partner. That’s when I realised I had to sort things out with you and Material Things. It was quite a shock when I went back to Brighton and found it gone. Then I made enquiries and discovered what had happened. Honestly, Hope, I never thought you’d have to close it down.’
‘Without the money you had taken it was bankrupt,’ said Hope. ‘If you can’t afford to pay your suppliers you can’t carry on, can you?’
‘I didn’t think,’ said Amy. None of her normal exuberance was showing. Maybe she was truly sorry, but Hope couldn’t help feeling angrier than ever. Amy, in the long run, had come out of this very well.
Amy continued, ‘Your accountant, Mr Grainger, he explained it all to me. He really doesn’t like me, does he?’ She gave a brief smile. ‘Whereas he can’t praise you enough. He explained that if it hadn’t been for your actions, both you and I could have been prevented from being involved in future businesses because of this one going in to liquidation. He explained that you’d effectively used your own money and that by doing so you’d saved my name as well as your own. And he said you could take out a private prosecution against me, and he was encouraging you to do so.’
Hope said nothing. She was annoyed at Tommy Grainger for explaining so much, although she supposed he had no choice. Amy had legally been a partner in the business.
Now Amy looked straight at Hope. ‘Are you going to sue me for the money?’
‘No, of course not.’ Hope shook her long hair back from her face. ‘Mr Grainger knows that al
ready. All I want to do is put the whole affair behind me.’
Amy smiled properly for the first time. ‘I knew it. I knew I could rely on you.’
‘I didn’t do it for your sake,’ said Hope, just wishing the girl would go. She had got what she wanted, hadn’t she? A promise of no prosecution, the chance to go ahead and involve herself in another business. ‘And I hope you know what you’re getting into with Steve and his brother. Can they trust you after this? And do you trust them?’
‘Yes, I told you, Steve’s turned over a new leaf. His brother was always the sensible one and he’s really pleased that Steve is settling down.’ She put out her left hand for Hope to see. ‘And we’re getting married. Of course I trust him.’
Hope shrugged. It was really nothing to do with her. ‘Congratulations,’ she said dully. ‘I wish you well.’ It looked like everything was turning out fine for Amy, whilst she, Hope, was still struggling to know what to do with her life.
‘Thanks,’ said Amy, smiling down at the ring. She took a few sips of her coffee, which must by now be cold. She seemed to have relaxed, as though now everything was explained they could both be happy.
Hope checked her watch, wishing the Jacksons would hurry up and come back.
‘The mini-cab business is doing all right, but we don’t have a lot of spare cash,’ said Amy.
Hope said nothing. What did that have to do with her?
‘But I want to try and make amends.’ Amy picked up her handbag and took out an envelope. She pushed it across the table to Hope. ‘There’s a cheque for £500. I know it’s nothing to what I owe you, but it’s a start. I’m going to try and pay you that every so often until I get to the amount Mr Grainger says you could have claimed off me.’
Hope was speechless. She didn’t pick up the envelope, merely stared at it. She had never expected to get the money back. But this wasn’t just about money, it was about Amy trying to put things right. Hope could feel a lump in her throat. ‘Thanks,’ she managed. ‘I, er, thanks.’
Amy leant back in her chair and began to peer around the kitchen. ‘So, tell me how you are. Quite a nice set-up you’ve got here. Your Aunt Susie says you’re working for some old man? And he’s got a grandson about your age? What’s he like? Any possibilities there?’
Hope shook her head. She had forgotten this side of Amy, her rampant curiosity and desire to partner Hope off with any single man. ‘Here they are now, you can see for yourself,’ she said. She was quite happy to introduce Mark Jackson to Amy. Robbie would have been another matter entirely. She didn’t know quite what her feelings were for Robbie Mackenzie, but they were too fragile for Amy’s kind of teasing.
Chapter Twenty-two
Hope was finally going to call on Mrs Slater. She had been putting it off for a while, but with young Mark Jackson constantly trying to persuade her to go out with him she decided that it might be a good idea to get away from Kirkside for a while.
She got Mrs Slater’s phone number from Susie and phoned ahead to make sure this morning was suitable for visiting. The daughter assured her it was and that her mother would be delighted to see Hope.
‘She talked about you a lot after seeing you at the wedding.’
Hope wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. Mrs Slater was intimidating. But she was committed now and had to go.
Mrs Slater’s daughter ushered Hope into a small, over-heated sitting room at the back of the bungalow. The old lady was seated in a high-backed armchair with a rug across her knees, although Hope didn’t see how she could possibly be cold.
‘Here’s Hope McIlroy to see you,’ said the daughter heartily. She was in her seventies, but she seemed sprightly.
‘I thought you were never going to visit,’ said Mrs Slater, eyeing Hope in that disconcerting way.
‘I, er, it’s good of you to see me.’
‘Sit you down, sit you down. I can’t be doing with people who hover.’
‘I’ll make a nice pot of tea, shall I?’ said the daughter, and withdrew without waiting for an answer.
‘So you want me to tell you about your family, do you?’ said Mrs Slater, coming straight to the point.
‘Well, yes. I’ve realised how little I know about them. And Mr Jackson said you might remember.’
‘Might! Of course I remember! My brain’s as good now as it was fifty years ago, which is more than can be said for some people.’
Hope smiled weakly and wondered if she had made a mistake in coming. Mrs Slater might remember all sorts of things, but did Hope really want to know?
‘So you never knew your mother wasn’t adopted?’ Mrs Slater rubbed her hands together in glee. ‘All those years and she never told you?’
‘That’s right. I didn’t know anything until Susie Ashbury spoke about it, a few months ago.’
‘Your mother was a fool not to tell you herself. And to let it cause a rift with your grandmother.’
‘My mother must have been very upset about the whole thing,’ said Hope, suddenly wanting to defend her mother.
‘Too soft, she was. Life’s tough and you’ve got to be able to take the knocks. And it wasn’t such a very bad thing, was it? She was brought up in a nice house with parents who took good care of her. What did she have to complain about?’
‘But the dishonesty …’ protested Hope.
‘Aye, well, not everyone’s as honest as they should be, that’s true. And it was different in those days. Appearance was very important.’ The old woman cackled, getting in to her stride now. ‘I could tell you things that would make your hair curl, but none of it was spoken of in public. I don’t suppose you know the Miller family that live at Hillend? Well, the second son of that family is not a bit like his so-called father, which isn’t surprising …’
She was interrupted by the arrival of the tea tray. The daughter must have overheard the last sentence because she said, ‘I think Hope wanted to know about her own family, Mother, not about the rest of the village. Now how do you take your tea, Hope? Milk? Sugar?’
Mrs Slater fortunately seemed to take the hint. When their conversation resumed she returned to their original topic.
‘As I said, your mother was a nice lassie, but soft. Now Jane Calvert, Irving that was, she was another kettle of fish. She lost her mother when she was wee. Jane had a hard time of it, with that old besom for a father. She was a pretty one, was Jane, and he’d hardly let her out of his sight. No wonder she didn’t get engaged for all those years. She and Joe Calvert were sweet on each other, but her dad thought he wasn’t good enough. A few too many airs and graces he had, for just a tailor, although he did sew for the gentry, so I’m told.’
Hope tucked away this little piece of information. Jane’s father Matthew hadn’t just been a village tailor. She found little titbits such as this fascinating.
‘As I said, Jane had a hard time of it after her mother died. Matthew Irving wasn’t the sociable kind. Didn’t even let her spend time with his own sister, who would have helped out if he’d allowed it. You know Matthew’s sister married a Jackson, don’t you? But Matthew didn’t approve, goodness knows why not, I’ve been trying to remember but if I ever knew it’s gone now. I believe they hardly spoke in later life …’
Hope hardly heard the last sentences. She was trying to make sense of an earlier one. ‘You said Jane’s aunt married a Jackson? You don’t mean a relative of my Mr Jackson?’
Mrs Slater nodded, eyes sparkling. ‘Aye, I believe so. Give me a minute and I’ll work out the connection. Don’t tell me you didn’t know?’
Hope couldn’t think of a thing to say. Her head was spinning. Could she really be related to Mr Jackson, and neither of them had known?
Mrs Slater was silent for a moment, counting on her fingers.
‘I think this is how it was. Matthew had a much older sister who married a Jackson, William or Billy I think he was. Your Mr Jackson will be their grandson … no, it must be great-grandson. Yes, that’ll be right.’
‘So m
y great-great-something aunt was his great-grandmother? Are you sure?’
‘I may be getting on but I’m not losing my marbles, young lady! Far from it. Sometimes I think I’m the only one in this village who remembers these things.’
‘But why didn’t Mr Jackson say anything to me?’
‘Because he didn’t know, or didn’t remember, like I said.’ Mrs Slater was back to looking rather smug. ‘Not everyone takes the interest I do. I knew as soon as I saw you and you reminded me of Jane I could tell you things. It’s taken me a while to remember it all, but there you are.’
Hope wished she had brought her notebook with her. It was all too complicated and too surprising to take in. But one thing seemed pretty clear. She and the Jacksons were related. Distantly, but related nevertheless!
She felt excited, but also confused. Suddenly, from having no family at all, she seemed to have masses. All with stories to their names, whole histories she had known nothing about. And what on earth would Mr Jackson think? What if he didn’t want to be related to her?
She took her leave soon after, saying she didn’t want to tire Mrs Slater, although if the truth was told the old lady seemed as bright as ever, delighted with the impact of her tales. It was Hope who needed a break. Unfortunately, as she walked down the road past the Ashburys’ bungalow, Susie appeared at the door.
Susie had been waiting for Hope so she could have a word with her.
‘She might not want to talk to you,’ Simon had warned.
‘Why on earth not?’
‘You don’t know what Mrs Slater will have said to her.’
But Susie couldn’t imagine old Mrs Slater would say anything worrying. Hope had got over her initial shock of finding she had had a ‘proper’ family in St Ann’s Bridge. Now she was doing exactly what she should be doing, making enquiries, finding out about her roots. And her roots were here. Susie just hoped her goddaughter would realise this and decide to stay.
She hurried down the steps as Hope approached. ‘I saw you go up to Mrs Slater. How did you get on? Do come in and tell me.’
Family Matters Page 13
