by Rosie James
Eileen was about to get up and ask if she could help when, just then, two men came over and each pulled up a chair to sit down next to the young woman and the child. And it seemed obvious that these must be the men who’d been expected because the young woman looked up, raising her eyes, and they all began talking. Then one of the men got up, said something to the woman, and went over to the counter, ruffling the child’s hair as he went past.
Eileen turned away, glancing at her watch. Carrie – her closest and best friend since school days – would be here any minute, then they would go to The Royal Hotel for their supper. They sometimes did this on a Friday evening, even if Mark, Carrie’s boyfriend, was on leave. Mark, a dedicated soldier, having joined up as soon as he’d been old enough, was already working his way up the ranks. Tall, with tousled fair hair and a generous, warm-hearted smile, he’d always been aware of the close friendship between Carrie and Eileen, and sometimes, when he was home, he would join them for their Friday supper.
Eileen smiled as she thought about tonight, knowing that Carrie would be sure to order the same thing – crisp whitebait followed by fillet of pork with mushrooms, while Eileen’s preference was prawn cocktail and steak, medium rare.
Now, stifling a yawn, she glanced at the door again. Carrie had been seeing Mark off on another platform – he’d had a forty-eight-hour leave – and it had been agreed that Eileen would wait for her here in the station restaurant.
Carrie Waters hurried along the platform, threading her way through all the passengers waiting for their train. She pushed open the door to the restaurant and, upon seeing her, Eileen immediately stood up and came over to join her.
‘Hello Carrie,’ she said. ‘Did Mark catch his train OK?’
‘It was ten minutes late,’ Carrie said as they left the restaurant, ‘but he got a good seat. Sorry to have kept you waiting.’
Carrie was quite short and on the plump side, her bronze hair cut into a neat bob framing a sweet face, while Eileen was tall and slender, with long, dark hair, her open face dominated by thoughtful grey eyes.
‘Oh, I didn’t mind waiting,’ Eileen said at once. ‘I’ve been people-watching and a really attractive young woman and small child were sitting a few tables along. They were rather unusual, and I thought they were on their own and seemed to be a bit … well, upset … and I was going to go over and speak to them, but then a couple of lads arrived who obviously knew them.’
‘Oh well, that was all right, then,’ Carrie said, linking her arm with Eileen’s as they walked along. ‘No need for Eileen Matthews to do another of her good deeds for the day.’
‘What you really mean,’ Eileen said, ‘is that there was no need for Eileen Matthews to be her usual bossy self.’
‘If you say so,’ Carrie said, ‘but everyone loves you, Eileen, especially when you’re bossy.’ She smiled. ‘Talking of love – has that bloke at work made any more advances?’
Eileen snorted. ‘If you can call leaving me a note and a large eating apple on my desk an “advance”, then yes. But I thought apples were treats for horses! I’d rather he’d left me a bar of Cadbury’s.’
Carrie couldn’t help laughing. ‘But you’re the problem, Eileen. You’re too hard to please! I suppose someone will arrive eventually and steal your heart.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ Eileen said airily. ‘Or perhaps my lot in life will be to help you look after all the children you and Mark are going to have.’
‘And you would be my first choice as super nanny, Eileen,’ Carrie said. ‘But all that is a very long way off. I think it’s going to be ages before you walk behind me to the altar as a bridesmaid.’
In the restaurant, the man who’d remained at the table leaned forward and grinned at Abigail. ‘So, you say you don’t know Bristol very well,’ he said.
Abigail looked at him uncertainly, disliking the smell of cigarette smoke on his breath. ‘No, this is our first time here,’ she said, ‘but we hope to make it our home … we’ve always lived in Somerset. Of course, we don’t know anyone at all yet, so it’s going to be exciting finding our way around a big city by ourselves.’ The man seemed friendly enough, Abigail thought, which was cheering.
The man nodded, glancing at Emily. ‘And who’s this? Your sister? She’s very pretty.’
‘No – Emily is my daughter,’ Abigail said firmly. ‘And I’m hoping she isn’t going to find our new venture too daunting. But it’ll be fine once we’ve found ourselves accommodation.’
The man’s gaze dropped to Abigail’s left hand … No wedding ring, eh?
‘Look – my name’s Don,’ he said, ‘and my mate over there is Reg. We work together on the line.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps we can help you find your way around the town – we’ve both lived here all our lives.’
Something in his suggestion made Abigail falter … after all, this was a complete stranger. She smiled quickly. ‘Oh, it’s all right, thanks,’ she said, helping Emily unwrap one of the packets of biscuits. ‘We’re used to fending for ourselves – aren’t we, Emily?’
Emily didn’t say a word, just stared at the man curiously.
Just then Reg reappeared, holding two pints of beer which he put down on the table.
‘’Yer you are, mate,’ he said to the other man jovially. ‘Get this down yer neck – it’s been a long day.’
Then he sat down, and without a moment’s pause they both gulped at the beer noisily, Don pausing briefly to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand before continuing to swallow until his glass was empty.
‘Blimey, Reg,’ he said. ‘I needed that! Me stomach thought me throat had been cut!’
Suddenly, Abigail wanted to remove herself and Emily from this present company. They were making her feel uncomfortable. But then, Don said, ‘D’you know what, Reg? This little lady and her daughter have just arrived and they’re going to make their home in Bristol. And they don’t know anyone and haven’t got anywhere to stay yet, either.’
‘Go on,’ Reg said slowly. He gazed at Abigail. ‘And – no husband here to take care of you both? What sort of a man is that to leave you high and dry!’
‘I am not married,’ Abigail said stoutly, wishing that these two had never sat with them. Everything about them was offensive. ‘And I can assure you that we can take good care of ourselves.’ She began to clear their things from the table and stood up. ‘I think it’s time we went to the rest room for a wash and brush up.’ She smiled quickly. ‘It’s nice to have met you,’ she said.
‘’Ang on a minute,’ Don said. ‘I told you just now – Reg and me know Bristol like the back of our ’ands. Why don’t you let us show you around? Bristol can be a whole lot of fun on a Friday night, and I’m sure my mum would look after the little one for a couple of hours.’
Abigail had had enough, feeling her mouth go dry with unexpected apprehension. ‘No, thank you,’ she said, helping Emily from the chair, and barely looking at them as she turned to go. ‘Goodbye.’
After she’d left, Reg said, ‘Nice try, mate. But she’s obviously the frigid type. Not your sort at all.’
‘Well, she can’t always have been frigid,’ Don said.
As they walked quickly towards the sign which read ‘Rest Room’, Abigail glanced down at Emily.
‘I’m glad you managed to eat a sausage and one of the biscuits, Emily, and you drank most of your milk, didn’t you?’
Emily nodded. ‘Yes, but we can have chips tomorrow, can’t we, Mummy?’
‘I promise,’ Abigail said, automatically glancing back over her shoulder in case those men were following them. Why had they had to come in and spoil everything, their intentions being obvious, even to Abigail’s untrained senses.
And she had to admit that the last hour had been a learning experience she hadn’t expected. The expression on the face of the woman who’d served their food had been positively hostile when she’d learned that Abigail wasn’t married, and Abigail had distinctly heard her whisper that horrible word – ‘slut’
– to the other woman serving. And then they’d both looked back, tight-lipped, their opinions written all over their faces. So was Edna right after all? Abigail asked herself. Was it so disgraceful for a single woman to produce a child? Was she going to be spurned, judged and condemned in this big city?
And even worse – was she going to be subjected to unwelcome attentions from men? Men she didn’t know and wouldn’t want to know!
Abigail shuddered at her own thoughts, feeling vulnerable and suddenly unsure of herself. She’d seen no reason not to tell the truth that she was Emily’s mother, despite not being married. It was her business, so why should anyone else care? Yet there were already signs that it may be better to avoid any trouble if she could, so perhaps she should not be so open in future. She bit her lip in frustration. This was something she had not thought about, and for Emily’s sake, and for her own protection, it seemed that she was going to have to be evasive in future. She could almost hear Edna’s voice.
‘Well, what did you expect? What you did was a sin and a disgrace which you will bear for the rest of your life! Serves you right!’
Abigail pressed her lips together. One thing she would not be evasive about was that Emily was her little girl. It would be a secret no longer. But there may be something that might help … if she could find a way to bring it about.
The rest room was large and quite inviting as they went inside, with only a young couple already there, talking together quietly. There was a long, padded bench all along one side of the room, and on the other were several comfy chairs and a few small tables. The toilet was clearly indicated at the far end.
‘I think we should have a wash and brush up before we do anything else,’ Abigail said, glancing down at Emily. ‘It’s quite a long time since we used that toilet on the train, isn’t it?’
‘It was funny going wee wee when it was moving, wasn’t it!’ Emily said as Abigail pushed her gently in front of her.
‘It was,’ Abigail agreed, realising again just how many new experiences were to confront both of them. I was right, Dada, wasn’t I, to bring us away from Coopers?
The three cubicles were all vacant, and just as they were about to enter one of them, something in a dusty corner caught Abigail’s eye, and she automatically bent and picked it up, glancing at it quickly. It was an ancient curtain ring, and she slipped it into her pocket. Emily, distracted by working out how to lock the door behind them, had noticed nothing.
By now it was almost eight o’clock and Abigail realised that it was far too late to try to find accommodation in Bristol for the night. But the rest room, empty of others now, was quiet and it seemed quite a good idea to stay here until morning. Although feeling slightly apprehensive, she led Emily over to the long, upholstered bench and, taking her own light woollen shawl from one of their bags and a comfy cardigan which she rolled up into a ball, she made a little nest in the corner for Emily.
‘Look – we’re both tired,’ Abigail said, ‘so we’ll just have a little nap here and set off on our big adventure in the morning.’
Emily, yawning, immediately climbed up and obediently curled herself inside the shawl.
‘This is a funny bed,’ she said, pausing to open one of their bags, ‘but dolly won’t mind. I shall cuddle her all night.’
And within two or three minutes, Emily was fast asleep.
As the night wore on, the noise of the trains became less as fewer of them appeared to be running, and it was almost midnight before Abigail even began to close her eyes, constantly glancing over at the door in case those men should come in. And a couple of times, when she did drift off, she woke with a start, imagining that that awful man’s face was close to hers again, leering at her.
Then, suddenly remembering, she put her hand into her pocket and took out the curtain ring. It was a pathetic object, bent along one side, but after carefully wiping it over and over again with her hanky, Abigail put it on the third finger of her left hand and stared at it. It actually shone a bit, and fitted her perfectly. She allowed herself a little smile.
Not quite as wonderful as the one which Luke would have given her, but it was going to serve its purpose, her first mode of defence.
To outside judgemental eyes she was now a married woman, a respectable mother of children – or of a child. And should Emily notice it – as she surely would – Abigail would merely tell her that she’d had it for ages but that she always forgot to put it on.
Chapter 6
The next morning, Emily was first to wake up and she shook Abigail’s arm gently.
‘Mummy – I need to go somewhere,’ she said. ‘And so does dolly.’
Abigail roused at once, surprised that she’d been able to sleep at all under the circumstances. But she had managed to snatch a few hours’ fitful rest, and now, waking up properly, she kissed Emily’s cheek.
‘Yes, we’ll have a little wash, and then go and find a taxi to take us somewhere nice for breakfast,’ she said. Abigail was determined never to set foot inside the station restaurant again. She shuddered as she remembered yesterday evening.
It was only seven o’clock, and glancing out of the window it was obvious that it was going to be another warm day. There was no one else in the rest room – perhaps she and Emily had been there alone all night, Abigail thought as they went into the toilets. Well, if so, that suited her perfectly. She didn’t want to speak to anyone who might undermine her confidence, even though she felt more than ready to face the world again. And today, she’d be more prepared.
Brushing Emily’s hair out gently – those dark ringlets did tend to tangle, exactly like Luke’s did – Abigail’s mind immediately went back to all those magical times she and Luke had spent together. He’d told her so much about life outside in the proper world, including the hustle and bustle of London’s sights, and what Bristol looked like with all its historic buildings and churches and green parks, and the docks where huge ships brought exciting things from overseas. And he’d said that there were always cafés and restaurants where you could get nice food. And that outside Temple Meads Railway Station a long taxi rank stood waiting to take departing passengers on to their next destination.
That was exactly what was going to happen to them today, Abigail thought as, presently, she replaced their wash things into the toilet bag. She didn’t exactly know what a taxi ride would cost, but she hoped she had enough in her purse to take them to the nearest café for their breakfast. And anyway, she always had that other little bag tucked safely inside her bolero, her safety net.
As they left the rest room, an early train had already hissed its way into the station and people were getting on and off hurriedly. Abigail felt a pang of envy as she passed by. They all knew where they were going, their day planned, familiar, safe. While hers and Emily’s was like stepping into the abyss.
But, as Luke had once said, there was the taxi rank outside and Abigail led Emily over to the first one in the row. The driver immediately got out and opened the back passenger door for them to get in.
‘Morning,’ he said affably as they climbed in. Then he got into the driver’s seat and glanced back. ‘Now, where can I take you young ladies to today?’
Abigail swallowed. She had no idea where they were going. But she answered him brightly. ‘Perhaps you could take us to a restaurant where we might get some breakfast?’
He started the car and they made their way down the wide approach into the town. ‘Just got off the early train, have you?’ he said. ‘Where’ve you come from?’
Abigail stared out of the window as he spoke. Everywhere seemed so huge and so busy! The buildings tall and awesome! Automatically, she pulled Emily in closer to her.
‘Oh – deepest Somerset,’ Abigail said casually in answer to his question, not bothering to say that that had been yesterday. ‘It was a very long train ride,’ she added, ‘but we’re here, and hoping to make our home in the city eventually, even if we don’t have anywhere to stay yet. And first we do need a good bre
akfast … could you possibly tell us the best café you know?’
The driver glanced at them curiously in the rear-view mirror. A beautiful woman and her sweet little girl, here alone in Bristol and not knowing anyone? He cleared his throat. ‘You have a very pretty daughter, madam,’ he said. ‘Reminds me of my little granddaughter.’
Yes! Abigail felt triumphant. The curtain ring had worked.
‘What’s your name, and how old are you, luvver?’ the man enquired as the car wound its way along the streets.
‘I am called Emily Grace,’ Emily said, unperturbed. ‘And I will be three next birthday.’
He chuckled. ‘You are going to break a man’s heart one day, Emily Grace,’ he said. ‘Now, I am going to drive you to Robertson’s in Denmark Street, just off the Centre. The lady who owns the place is called Janet, and her food is famed throughout the city! I sometimes stop there if I’m not busy.’ He smiled back. ‘Janet does smashing bacon and eggs and toast and marmalade – and afternoon tea and homemade cakes as well. You’ll like Janet.’
Abigail felt her spirits surge. This was a pleasant man, eager to help.
The journey to the café was only a five- or six-minute drive, and after carefully counting out the coins to pay their fare, Abigail led Emily into Robertson’s. Even at this early hour of the day the place was crowded with city workers grabbing a coffee, or others enjoying a full plate of bacon and eggs and sausages as they chatted among themselves. There didn’t seem to be many tables vacant, but as Abigail looked around, a woman approached them, smiling. She was tall, and had a mass of fair hair, slightly greying. She was wearing a full, printed cotton overall.
