A Cuckoo in Candle Lane

by Kitty Neale

Smiling, she watched him as he ran out of the room, and it wasn’t long before she heard the back door slam. Faintly in the distance she could hear singing, and as the sound increased Sally recognised the voices of her mum and gran. Jumping out of bed, her eyes quickly scanning the room, she saw Arthur’s tie slung across the back of a chair. Picking it up hastily and rolling it into a ball, she thrust it into the back of a drawer. Then, flinging a nightie over her head, she scrambled back into bed, frantically pulling the blankets into some semblance of order.

  It wasn’t long before the bedroom door opened. ‘Are yer ashleep, Shally?’ her mum slurred.

  Keeping her eyes tightly closed she didn’t answer, relieved when her mother didn’t advance any further into the room.

  ‘Yeah, ashleep,’ she heard Ruth mumble as the door closed.

  Sally snuggled down in the bed, a soft dreamy smile on her face. Arthur had been so kind and gentle, and though she had been frightened, he had patiently removed her fears.

  She felt a surge of guilt, thinking about Jenny. Arthur wouldn’t be going to Australia now – he loved her, just as much as she loved him. Poor Jenny, how would she take it?

  Sally awoke to the sound of someone banging on the front door. Blinking rapidly, she glanced at the clock. It was only just after seven – who could be calling so early on a Sunday morning?

  She clambered out of bed, slung on her dressing-gown, and padded softly downstairs. There was no sign of movement from her mum and gran and she wasn’t surprised. They had both sounded pretty drunk last night. What was it they were singing at the top of their voices as they came down the Lane? Oh yes, that was it, she thought, as she ran the tune over in her mind. It was one of Gran’s old favourites – ‘My old man said follow the van’.

  The song died abruptly in her thoughts as she opened the door. Jenny Jackson was standing on the step looking dishevelled and tight-lipped. She thrust her way inside and marched into the kitchen, Sally following in her wake.

  ‘I may ’ave been drunk last night, Sally Marchant, but I ain’t blind,’ she snapped, standing stiffly in the centre of the room, her arms folded across her chest. ‘I was in our front bedroom, and I saw my Arthur coming in here with you before the party was over. What was going on?’

  ‘I … I … didn’t feel well,’ Sally stammered, unable to get her thoughts into any coherent order. ‘Arthur just walked me home.’

  ‘Well, that’s funny isn’t it, ’cos I saw him come in with you … but he never came out again.’

  Sally stared blankly at Jenny, relieved when an answer popped into her head. ‘That’s because he went out the back way.’

  Jenny narrowed her eyes suspiciously and began to pace the room. ‘I know Arthur fancies you, Sally, I’ve seen the way he looks at you – but you can’t ’ave him!’ She stopped pacing and turned, a look of triumph on her face. ‘You see, there’s something he don’t know yet. Something I’m gonna tell him today.’

  ‘What doesn’t he know?’ Sally asked, but somehow she already knew what Jenny was about to say, and her heart sank.

  ‘I’m pregnant, ain’t I?’ she crowed, swaggering across to stand in front of Sally, fixing her with hard blue eyes. ‘I’m ’aving Arthur’s baby.’

  Sally looked down, hiding her feelings, then putting on a dismissive act she shrugged her shoulders, saying, ‘Well, you haven’t got anything to worry about from me. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get dressed.’

  ‘All right, Miss High and Mighty – I’m going. And I can’t wait to see my Arthur’s face when I tell him,’ she gloated.

  There was a hollow pain in her midriff as Sally went back to her room, and resting her hands on the window-sill, she stared with unseeing eyes at the Lane below. Only last night she had been so happy, and now it had been snatched away. It was over – over before it had really begun. There was no way she could come between Arthur and Jenny now. A baby needed both parents. She knew from personal experience what it was like to be without a father’s love, and how could she inflict that on an innocent child?

  Now, as she flung herself on the bed, she wondered why she didn’t have any warning. Why can I foresee the future for other people, she agonised, but not for myself?

  It was three in the afternoon before Arthur knocked gently on the back door. Sally glanced at her mum and gran snoozing in their chairs as they always did after Sunday dinner. Quickly grabbing a coat she opened the back door, putting her fingers to her lips as she stepped into the yard.

  Arthur’s face was white and drawn. He ran both hands through his hair in agitation, staring at her and shaking his head helplessly as though unable to speak.

  Sally was overwhelmed with love for him. She had thought long and hard about what she was going to do, and though it would be hard, she knew it was the only way. If she could pull it off, hide her feelings, Arthur would go to Australia with no idea how much she loved him.

  Drawing her shoulders back, and feigning impatience, she said, ‘I’m a bit busy at the moment, Arthur, is there something you wanted to see me about?’

  He looked puzzled by her attitude, but then shook his head as though to clear it, saying, ‘It’s about last night, Sally. Something’s happened. Jenny came to see me this morning and she said—’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she interrupted. ‘Jenny came to see me too. She was a bit jealous when she saw us together.’ She shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I told her I’m not interested in you and that you just walked me home. After all, there’s no need to let on about out drunken little fling, is there?’

  ‘Drunken fling?’ he whispered. ‘Is that all it was to you?’

  ‘Of course it was, and I’m sure it was the same for you. It serves us both right for drinking too much.’ She saw the pain in his eyes and had to turn away.

  There was a stunned silence and Arthur’s face flushed. ‘I see. Bloody hell, what a fool I’ve been. I should have known better – after all, you’ve been shunning me for years.’ He reached out and gripped her arm. ‘Did Jenny tell you about the baby?’

  ‘Yes, she did – and congratulations,’ Sally answered, trying to sound flippant.

  He looked at her with disgust. ‘Christ, and there I was, worried about how to tell you.’ He let go of her arm and slumped against the wall. ‘I was worrying about nothing, wasn’t I? Thank God I didn’t tell Jenny about us.’

  ‘There is no us, Arthur.’

  ‘Yes, you’ve made that pretty obvious.’ He shook his head and stood up, his voice firmer now. ‘I’ve told Jenny not to tell anyone about the baby. Mum’s upset enough about me going, and if she knew Jenny was pregnant she’d be heartbroken at not seeing her first grandchild. I’ll write and tell her as soon as we get to Australia. Will you keep it to yourself until then?’

  ‘Yes, of course I will. Now I must go in, Arthur,’ she told him, feeling her legs starting to cave under her. She couldn’t keep up this façade much longer, and turned hurriedly away.

  ‘Wait! Sally, just give me one last chance to—’

  ‘See you later,’ she managed to blurt out, cutting him off mid-sentence. Wrenching open the door she dashed inside, her head drooping despondently when she heard the back gate slam. That’s it, she thought. He’s sailing in five days’ time, and I’ll never see him again.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sally was feeling the strain of hiding her feelings and her veneer was beginning to crack. The days leading up to Arthur’s departure had been bad enough. She had managed to avoid him, yet all the time was screaming inside to see his face, just once more. Now it was here, the day she dreaded but knew was inevitable, the day he departed for Australia.

  Standing at her bedroom window, she watched as they piled into the car, all going to see him off: Elsie looking like death, Bert long-faced and Ann already crying into her hankie. Her stomach lurched – there he was, a suitcase in each hand. Arthur, Arthur! she cried inwardly.

  ‘Sally, come on, they’re going. Ain’t you coming down to say goodbye?’ her mum cal
led.

  Oh God, she thought, I can’t do it – I can’t. I’ll break down.

  ‘Sally, come on!’ her mum called again.

  She took several deep breaths, realising that it would arouse their suspicions if she didn’t say goodbye. Then, drawing herself up to her full height, pulling back her shoulders and praying for strength, she walked slowly downstairs.

  ‘Are you all right, Sal?’ her gran asked. ‘You don’t half look pale.’

  She didn’t answer – she couldn’t. Her legs were shaking so badly that it took all her concentration just to put one foot in front of the other.

  Stepping out into the Lane she kept her head lowered as Arthur turned, aware that if their eyes met he would see her agony.

  Her mother rushed in front of her, thankfully postponing the moment, and reaching up she flung her arms around his neck, saying, ‘Bye, lad – have a safe journey. Don’t forget, you promised to write.’

  ‘I won’t forget, Ruth. Will you keep an eye on Mum for me?’

  ‘Yes, of course, we all will,’ she answered, indicating other neighbours who were waiting to say their goodbyes.

  ‘Thanks. I’m going to miss you all,’ he said, his voice strained with emotion.

  Sally’s breath caught in her throat. He had stepped forward, was moving towards her. She had to stay calm, had to – so many people were watching.

  ‘Goodbye, Sally,’ he said softly.

  She knew she had to raise her head; it would look odd if she didn’t. Oh God, this was too much. Looking up, she focused on his chin. ‘Goodbye, Arthur. Good luck,’ she said, her voice coming out in a croak.

  ‘Sally,’ he whispered.

  ‘Take care of yerself, Arthur,’ her gran said, moving to stand beside them and touching his sleeve.

  ‘I will, old girl,’ he said, covering her hand with his.

  Using this moment of distraction, Sally turned quickly away, fighting to hold back her tears. Ann was staring at her strangely from the back of the car, her hand flat on the window as she leaned forward. Sally waved distantly in her general direction then rushed back indoors, seeking the sanctuary of her bedroom.

  Arthur sat in the front seat, next to his dad, his mind in turmoil. He had hardly seen Sally during the time leading up to his departure; she had obviously been avoiding him, but why? He had tried to talk to her just now when she came to say goodbye, but her gran had interrupted them. How could he have been so wrong? The night they made love he’d been sure that she returned his feelings, and he had made up his mind not to go to Australia.

  It had been absolute hell the next morning when Jenny came round and told him she was pregnant. He had stared at her in horror, unable to believe his ears, sure that he had always pulled out in time. Thankfully she had prattled on about how wonderful it was and asking if they should tell everyone before they left, giving him time to pull himself together. He had got rid of her as quickly as possible, telling her to keep the news to herself for the time being.

  After that he’d sat in his room for hours, his thoughts spinning. What could he do? Finally he came to realise that he had no choice. He couldn’t break up with Jenny now – she was carrying his child!

  Grimacing, he remembered how he’d agonised about how to tell Sally. Christ, what a fool he’d felt when he went to see her. Their lovemaking had meant nothing to her, nothing. He went over and over it in his mind, thinking about what she had told him about her uncle. She had been a virgin, he was sure of that, so how could she dismiss what had happened so flippantly?

  ‘Jenny and her family only left about fifteen minutes before us, Arthur. We may be able to catch them up,’ his dad said, breaking into his thoughts.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ he answered, trying to shut his mind to the snuffling sobs coming from the back of the car. He hadn’t wanted his family to come to the docks to see him off, dreading how painful it would be. But they had insisted, and now he wondered why he hadn’t put his foot down.

  There was only sporadic conversation for the rest of the journey and it was a relief when they reached Southampton. It took them some time to find Jenny and her family in the crowd, and when they did, the Jacksons were anxious to board the ship.

  Arthur drew in a deep breath and turning to face his mother, he found the pain in her eyes agonising to see. ‘Bye, Mum,’ he whispered, taking her small plump body in his arms.

  ‘Oh, son, son,’ she sobbed.

  He had to pull away, had to, it was too painful. He gave Ann a quick hug, feeling her face, wet with tears, against his. Then, after giving his father’s hand a quick shake, he turned quickly to leave. But his father pulled him back, and Arthur found himself gripped tightly as Bert’s huge arms wrapped round him. ‘Bye, son. If you don’t settle, if you change your mind, don’t be too proud to write and tell us. You can always come home,’ he choked, his voice strangled with emotion.

  Arthur wrenched himself out of his father’s arms. He had to get on the ship, he couldn’t stand any more. ‘I must go,’ he gasped, trying to hide his feelings as he stepped onto the gangplank, boarding the ship that would take him to a new life.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ‘Sally, what’s worrying you?’ Sid asked, joining her behind the counter. ‘You ain’t been yourself for weeks now.’

  ‘Nothing, I’m all right,’ she told him and, turning away, pulled out one of the drawers, fiddling with the contents.

  He shuffled over to the door and putting the latch down, said gruffly, ‘Right, it’s half-day closing time. Come upstairs, please.’

  She looked at him nervously; he sounded annoyed. Was he going to sack her? Yet how could she blame him if he did? Her heart hadn’t been in the job since Arthur’s departure.

  Following him upstairs she knew that it wasn’t just her job, she had lost interest in everything lately – every day had become like a burden to be got through. Arthur was constantly on her mind. When she fell asleep at night she saw his face and when she woke up in the morning, he was her first thought. Her unhappiness was like a hard knot of pain in her stomach.

  ‘Talk to me, Sally,’ Sid said as she stepped into the room, indicating that she should sit opposite him.

  Sally looked into his eyes, finding them full of sympathy, not anger – and suddenly found that all her pent-up emotions rose to the surface as she sobbed out her unhappiness, crying for the first time since Arthur’s departure.

  Silence filled the room when she finally managed to bring herself under control. Sid, saying nothing, went over to the old butler sink in the corner, filling the kettle from the cold tap. After putting it onto the gas stove he returned, and sitting down, leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. ‘Do you know something, Sally, when my wife died, I wanted to die too. She was a wonderful woman, my Rachel, and we were together for over forty years.’

  Sally just stared at him and he smiled softly.

  ‘What’s the silly old fool going on about, I expect you’re thinking. No, it’s all right,’ he said when she started to protest. ‘All I’m trying to say, Sally, is that time is a great healer. You’ll get over the loss of your young man. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it does get easier.’

  She shook her head, a denial on her lips as he continued.

  ‘Just give it time,’ he said gently. ‘Perhaps you’ve been trying too hard to put on a brave front. My Rachel was a wise woman. She used to say that tears are the best medicine for unhappiness, and I’m sure she’s right.’

  Oh, it was too much – the sympathy was too much, Sally thought guiltily. Sid thinks I’m putting on a brave face, but in truth I’m a coward. I’m afraid to let anyone know how I feel about Arthur, especially Elsie. She would never forgive me if she knew I might have been able to stop him from emigrating.

  Christmas Day had been awful. They were invited to Elsie’s for dinner, and it had proved a disaster. Seeing how much they were missing Arthur had added to her guilt, and though her mum and gran had tried to cheer everyone up, it wa
s a relief when the day came to an end.

  Talking to Sid had made her take a good look at herself, and to admit her feelings for the first time. Perhaps crying had helped, for she realised now that she had to accept that Arthur had gone – gone for ever. Somehow she must get on with her life without him.

  She stood up, determined now to make an effort. ‘Right, I think I’ll pop across to the baker’s and get us a couple of nice crusty rolls. If I don’t make lunch before I go, you won’t bother to eat, will you?’

  ‘That’s the ticket, Sally. How about a nice bowl of chicken soup to go with them?’

  After Sid had eaten his fill, he leaned back, patting his tummy contentedly. ‘The shop’s done really well, Sally. Those Christmas lines you ordered ’ave nearly all gone, especially the sewing baskets. We’ve hardly got anything left to put in a January sale. But come on now, it’s time you went home, you’re wasting your half-day off.’

  ‘All right. I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ she told him, making her way back down to the shop, gratified that the new lines she’d tried had been a success.

  A quick glance around showed her that everything was neat and tidy, so putting her coat on she left the shop, locking the door behind her.

  The sky was laden with dark, heavy rainclouds, and as she walked home, her spirits dropped again. The determination she had felt to make an effort diminished as her thoughts turned, yet again, to Arthur.

  Elsie stared at the Tarot cards, unable to make any sense of the spread. The only thing that leaped out at her was that she was going to get a letter. She shook her head impatiently; she didn’t need the Tarot cards to tell her that. After all, Arthur had been at sea for six weeks now and must be due to land in Australia soon.

  Something was going to happen, she had been sensing it for days – but what? Impatiently gathering the cards together and wrapping them in a silk cloth, she put them back into their wooden box. The room looked so bare now without the Christmas decorations, yet she had been glad to take them down. Their first Christmas without Arthur had been awful – they were all pining. Bert was still refusing to talk about his feelings, only commenting that Jones & Son would never be painted on the side of his removal vans now.