by Kitty Neale
Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘Well, what did she say? Did you convince her to keep quiet, John?’ Lottie asked, pacing the floor in agitation.
‘I didn’t get a chance to say much. She wouldn’t let her mother leave the room.’
‘Oh, John. What are we going to do? If she opens her mouth, you’ll be ruined.’
‘She may not say anything, Auntie. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed.’
‘Don’t be silly. We can’t leave it like this! Why on earth didn’t you insist on speaking to her alone?’
‘I did, but she wouldn’t have it. She was very upset.’
‘Well, of course she’s upset. Can’t you imagine how awful this must be for her? Seeing you with Larry must have been a dreadful shock. Perhaps I should go to see her – she might listen to me.’
‘Yes, you could give it a try, I suppose.’ He sank back in his chair, sighing heavily. ‘God, I’ve really made a mess of things, haven’t I.’
‘You weren’t to know she would turn up at the flat, darling. But taking Larry there was a rather silly thing to do. Oh, by the way, he left this note for you.’
He took the note eagerly, ripping open the envelope and scanning the contents. Lottie saw his face blanch, then leaning forward he covered his face with his hands.
‘What is it, darling?’ she asked anxiously.
John looked up, his eyes wet with tears. ‘He doesn’t want to see me any more. He says it’s too risky now, and he has his reputation to think of. Huh, I expect he’s frightened that his wife will find out about us.’
‘Reputation – his reputation – what about yours?’ Lottie said indignantly.
John ran a hand tiredly over his forehead. ‘Oh Lottie, I thought he loved me,’ he whispered brokenly.
‘Obviously not enough to stick by you now,’ Lottie retorted. Then, seeing the depths of John’s pain, she rushed to his side. ‘I’m sorry, that was cruel of me. Oh darling, you look exhausted. I think we’re both too tired to think straight. Why don’t you get yourself off to bed and we’ll talk again in the morning.’
He nodded, rising slowly from the chair. ‘Perhaps if you can persuade Sally to keep quiet, Larry might change his mind,’ he said hopefully. ‘Good night, Auntie.’
‘Good night, my dear, and try not to worry too much. I’m sure she’ll listen to me.’
Sally awoke the next morning to the sound of raised voices, and recognising one of them as Lottie’s, she called out urgently, ‘Let her in, Mum, I want to speak to her.’ Pulling herself up onto the pillows and catching her breath painfully, she ran her fingers through her hair. There were things she wanted to say to Lottie, and it might as well be now.
‘I don’t know why you want to see the likes of her,’ was her mum’s caustic remark as they stepped into the room, and folding her arms across her chest, she stood by the bed like a sentinel.
‘Sally, may I talk to you alone, please?’ Lottie asked.
‘No, you bleedin’ well can’t,’ Ruth snapped. ‘Anything you’ve got to say, you can say in front of me.’
Ignoring Ruth, Lottie looked at Sally propped up in bed. ‘Please, Sally,’ she begged.
‘My mother already knows about John’s homosexuality, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ Sally told her, seeing her eyes widen.
‘Oh no!’ Lottie gasped. ‘Please, I beg you, please don’t tell anyone else. Don’t you realise that homosexuality is illegal? If the authorities find out, it could ruin John’s life.’
‘Huh, I like that,’ Ruth spat. ‘John’s life will be ruined. What about my Sally?’
‘Mum, can I have a cup of tea, please?’ Sally asked, knowing it was the only way to get her mother out of the room. Seeing the doubt on her face, she added, ‘It’s all right, I’ll be fine.’
‘Yeah, all right then. But don’t go upsetting my daughter. You and yer bleedin’ nephew ’ave done enough damage,’ Ruth told Lottie, giving her a hard look as she left the room.
‘How could you, Lottie! How could you let John use me like that!’ Sally asked, as soon as her mother was out of earshot.
‘We didn’t mean to hurt you, Sally. Really we didn’t. You see, I noticed that you seemed frightened of men and when I thought you wouldn’t be interested in … well, that side of marriage … you seemed the ideal match.’
‘Ideal match?’ Sally retorted, her voice high. ‘How can being married to a …a queer be ideal? All right, I admit I’m afraid of sex, but I could have got over that – and what if I had wanted children?’
Lottie stared at Sally, her face pale. ‘Oh, I am so sorry, my dear. I didn’t think, really I didn’t. I just wanted to protect John and I honestly thought you would be happy together.’
Looking down at her hands, Sally suddenly realised that she was still wearing John’s ring, and slowly pulled it off. She held it clasped in her fist momentarily, intending to hand it back to Lottie, but was surprised when she suddenly saw a vision flash in front of her eyes. ‘My God,’ she gasped. ‘This ring, John said it belonged to his mother.’
‘Yes, it was my sister-in-law’s engagement ring,’ Lottie answered, her voice suddenly wary.
Sally’s brow creased and she clenched the ring tightly, closing her eyes. Seconds later they flew open. ‘You’re John’s mother,’ she said. ‘This ring belongs to you.’
Lottie staggered and held onto the post at the foot of the bed. ‘No, no, you’re wrong!’
‘No, I’m not,’ Sally insisted. ‘I saw a vision of you wearing it. It’s definitely yours.’
At that point, the fight seemed to go out of Lottie. ‘Can I sit down, please?’ she whispered, just as Ruth came back into the room holding a cup of tea in her hand.
She looked from her daughter to Lottie, and seeing their expressions, demanded, ‘What’s going on? Are you all right, Sally?’
‘Yes, I’m fine, but Lottie’s had a bit of a shock. Could you get her a cup of tea too, Mum?’
‘Christ, what do you think this is – a café,’ she retorted crossly. ‘I ain’t a bleedin’ waitress, you know.’
‘Please, it’s all right. I don’t want anything,’ Lottie said, as she lowered herself onto a chair.
‘Mum, would you leave us alone, please,’ Sally asked, and seeing Ruth’s expression, added, ‘Just for five minutes.’
‘All right, but five minutes and no longer,’ she snapped, puffing loudly with indignation as she left the room.
As soon as the door closed, Lottie leaned forward in the chair. ‘All right, Sally. I suppose I owe you the truth. You’re right, I am John’s mother, but he must never find out.’
‘Why? I don’t understand.’
‘Oh, my dear. It’s still a stigma now if a girl gets pregnant before marriage, but it was even worse in nineteen thirty-six.’
‘But what happened? Why didn’t you get married?’
‘I was jilted, Sally. When I was just two months’ pregnant my fiancé ran off with another girl.’
‘I still don’t understand. If your brother and his wife were killed during the war, why does John think they were his parents?’
Lottie heaved a sigh. ‘To all intents and purposes they were, Sally. You see, when my father found out that I was pregnant, all hell broke loose. He went absolutely mad and threatened to throw me out. It was my brother who came to my rescue, and he took me to stay with him and his wife. When John was born, they offered to adopt him.’
‘But why did you let them?’
‘What choice did I have, Sally? I was a young woman, on my own. Where could I go with a baby son? How could I support him?’
‘Yes, all right, I can see that. But I still don’t understand why you haven’t told John the truth.’
Lottie sighed, her eyes pools of anguish as she gazed at Sally. ‘Guilt, that’s why I haven’t told him. I suppose you could call it my penance.’
Seeing Sally shaking her head in obvious confusion, Lottie continued, ‘You see, I wasn’t a very religious
person then, only going to church for the usual weddings and funerals. But after giving John up I missed him so much. Night after night I used to lie in my bed, praying to God to give him back to me. To somehow make it possible.’
‘And you got him back,’ Sally whispered, her eyes wide.
‘Yes, I did. But at what cost? The death of my brother and his wife.’
‘But that wasn’t your fault,’ Sally protested. ‘You have no need to feel guilty.’
‘Oh, but I do, Sally. When they were killed, do you know what my first reaction was? No, I can see that you don’t. It was joy. Yes, joy! I couldn’t wait to get John back and was on the first available train to Devon. Even before their funeral.’
Sally averted her eyes, shocked by what she was hearing, yet unable to feel anything but pity for Lottie.
‘I’ve been paying the penance for it ever since, Sally. I go to church twice a week, help as much as I can in fund-raising events. And I vowed never, ever, to tell John the truth. It’s the only way I can assuage my guilt.’
As Sally was about to speak the door opened, and her mother walked in. Seeing her expression, Lottie rose to her feet. ‘I’ll go now, Sally. Thank you for seeing me. It seems I’m leaving you with two secrets now. Will you keep them both?’
Sally looked at the woman she had been prepared to hate, and searching her feelings realised that all the anger she felt had drained away, to be replaced by compassion. Lottie was punishing herself, and had been for many years. Yes, she had used her, but like any mother, she had just been trying to protect her child.
‘Your secrets are safe with me, Lottie, if you promise me just one thing?’
‘Yes, whatever you ask,’ Lottie said eagerly.
‘Will you promise me that you won’t encourage John to marry another young woman?’
‘Oh yes, my dear. Now I’ve seen the hurt it can cause, I realise how misguided I was. All I can do now is to pray that the law will change and it will no longer be illegal to be homosexual in this country. If that happened, there would be no need for them to marry to cover up their sexuality.’
‘Do you think the law will be changed?’
‘I doubt it, Sally. There is so much prejudice, you see.’
‘Yeah, and I should think so too,’ Ruth said harshly. ‘It’s disgusting, that’s what it is. Now if you don’t mind, my daughter needs to rest.’
‘See what I mean, Sally?’ Lottie said, turning to leave. ‘Prejudice, so much prejudice. Goodbye, my dear, I hope you recover from your fall soon.’ Then, giving her a tremulous smile, she turned to Ruth. ‘Thank you for allowing me to see your daughter, Mrs Marchant.’
Her mother just stared at Lottie, giving no answer, and with her mouth set in a grim line, she escorted her downstairs.
In what felt like minutes, she was back, standing by the side of the bed again, her arms folded across her chest. ‘What was she on about? What two secrets?’ she demanded.
‘You already know that John’s a homosexual, Mum, but I can’t tell you the other secret. I promised Lottie I would keep it to myself. But don’t worry, it’s nothing that affects us, it’s something personal to her.’
‘Huh, typical. You always was a dark horse,’ Ruth said huffily, and turning to leave the room, she hissed, ‘I hate secrets.’
Sally stared at the door as it closed. Her mother called her a dark horse, yet she was one to talk. It had taken her thirteen years to find out that Ken wasn’t her real father.
Chapter Thirty
The catalyst came for Sally three weeks later, when she woke up to what would have been her wedding day. She climbed slowly out of bed, her injuries almost healed, and opening her wardrobe door, she looked at her cream suit. Tears filled her eyes, and grabbing the suit from the hanger she held it clutched to her chest. ‘John, oh John, why?’ she agonised, as she had done so many times whilst confined to bed.
Her sobs increased, her stomach sore as she drew in deep shuddering breaths. Then, throwing the suit away from her and onto the floor, she went into the bathroom, splashing cold water onto her face.
How much longer can you go on like this? she asked herself, staring into the mirror. She suddenly found herself thinking about her relationship with John, finding that instead of getting emotional again, for the first time she was analysing her feelings. Yes, she had felt safe with him; there had been no fear of passion, or sexual advances. But now she began to wonder if she had really loved him as a woman should love a man. She had admired him, and had to admit to being in awe of him. He always looked so perfect, and had been instrumental in changing her own diction and appearance, always wanting her to act and dress perfectly. His good looks, immaculate manners, gentleness and kindness couldn’t be denied – but had he ever raised any real feelings in her? But if she hadn’t really loved him, why was she so hurt? What was causing this pain?
Slowly she began to realise that it was the deceit that hurt the most. Both Lottie, to whom she had become very close, and John, had used her. It had all been a sham, a pretence; they hadn’t really cared about her at all.
As the weeks went by Sally gradually began to recover, finding that she was feeling relieved, not only that she had discovered John’s secret before they had married, but also that she could now do what she wanted, wear what she wanted, without fear of censure.
When her injuries were completely healed she decided not to go back to Arding & Hobbs. She couldn’t face the thought of seeing John each day or of working alongside Lottie.
It was Ann who was instrumental in finding her a new job, having seen it advertised. Though some distance away, in Wandsworth, she had to admit she had fallen on her feet. Sidney Jacob’s small haberdashery shop was a decade out of date: a mishmash of old and faded dressmaking patterns, wool, zips, and a hundred and one other miscellaneous goods, all jumbled in a myriad of wooden drawers that stretched from floor to ceiling behind the old-fashioned, glass-fronted counter.
When she went for the interview, Sally and Mr Jacob took to each other on sight. Mr Jacob’s wife had died several years ago and he had lost interest in the business. When he’d found difficulty in climbing the ladder to reach the top shelves, he reluctantly reached the conclusion that he needed an assistant.
Sally was now climbing down this old wooden ladder, a drawer clutched precariously in her hands. She was gradually bringing the shop into a semblance of order, but there was a long way to go yet. Placing the drawer on the counter, she couldn’t help grinning at the contents as she pulled out a selection of men’s woollen long johns, yellow with age. Counting them and entering the amount in the stock book she had devised, she added them to the growing pile of items waiting to be sold off in a clearance sale.
The door at the back of the shop opened and Sid came shuffling towards her, wearing his baggy old cardigan despite the lovely late August weather. ‘Are you all right, Sally?’ he asked. ‘I’m sorry I ain’t bin down this morning, but I knew you could cope.’
She smiled affectionately at the man she had become so fond of in just a couple of months. He was only five foot four inches tall, and wore his sparse grey hair brushed over to one side, attempting to cover the fact that he was balding. Sid wasn’t exactly fat, but he had a rotund stomach and wore his trousers hitched up high with ancient braces. Of course, this caused them to look too short, and they flapped around his ankles, showing off his battered black shoes.
‘Do yer fancy a cup of tea, gel?’ he now asked.
Sally knew this was her cue to go up to his flat above the shop. She would make them lunch every day, usually something simple like soup or salad, with nice fresh crusty rolls from the baker’s shop across the street. As soon as the food was ready he would turn the shop sign to Closed and join her upstairs for a leisurely half hour break which, if they got engaged in conversation, sometimes stretched an extra fifteen minutes.
She sliced the tomatoes, thinking once again how lucky she was to work for Sid, who in a very short time had handed most of the respon
sibility of running the shop over to her. She was determined to bring the stock up to date and only yesterday had spotted some wonderful new styles in the latest dressmaking catalogue.
‘Sid, lunch is ready,’ she called.
Watching him tuck into the salad with obvious relish, she tentatively raised the subject of stock. ‘I was looking at the new catalogue and I er …I wondered if it would be all right to order a few new patterns, just to see how they sell.’
He held his hands out, palms up and shrugged, saying, ‘My life, Sally, just do what you think is best. When my Rachel was alive she used to order all the stock.’ His rheumy eyes clouded for a moment and then he sighed. ‘Just get what you think will sell, but don’t go mad. I ain’t made of money, you know.’
Sally smiled. It was a small start, but one she hoped would eventually bring in more customers.
At five-thirty, locking the shop door behind her, she made her way to the bus stop. It had been a productive day and she was pleased with her achievements. All the drawers had been sorted and catalogued, and now she could concentrate on the shelves in the back room, piled high with old rolls of dressmaking material.
It was Thursday evening and she would be joining Elsie at the Spiritualist Church later for a healing service. She hurried along, perspiring slightly, anxious to get home for a bath. After rummaging around in so much dusty old stock she felt distinctly grubby.
It had been six months now since she had broken up with John, and Elsie had advised her to offer her services at the church. There were two other healers and they had been so welcoming, encouraging her gift and helping her to develop other psychic abilities that were gradually growing in strength.
She was glad to arrive home, and stepping into the hall, called, ‘Hello, it’s me. What’s for dinner, Mum? I’m starving!’ Her smile faded as she walked into the kitchen, immediately picking up the atmosphere and realising with a sinking heart that something was dreadfully wrong.
