A Cuckoo in Candle Lane

by Kitty Neale

  She had invited Ruth, Sally and Sadie around for Christmas dinner, which she soon came to realise was a mistake, because it had ended up spoiling their Christmas too. Poor Sally had been dreadfully subdued and Elsie guessed that she was intuitively picking up on their unhappiness.

  The door opened and she looked up in surprise when Bert walked into the room, almost as though her thoughts had conjured him up. ‘Hello, love, what are you doing home so early?’ she asked him in surprise.

  He yanked his cap off, pulled out a chair, and sat down, gazing at her earnestly. Elsie shivered intuitively. He was going to tell her something – something very important.

  ‘We’ve got three vans now, love, and may need another one soon. As you know, I can’t do any more lifting, so I spend most of my time in the office and going out to give estimates. When I looked at the accounts last week it made me realise how the business is thriving.’

  ‘Yes, Bert, you’ve done really well, but what is this leading to?’

  ‘Think back to the day we moved into this house. What did I say to you?’

  ‘How can you expect me to remember that? It was nearly eight years ago.’

  ‘Well, I remember, Elsie. I’ve never forgotten the look on your face when you saw this house. You put on a brave front, but I knew you hated it.’

  ‘I must admit I didn’t like it at first, but we’ve been happy here,’ she told him, picking at the tablecloth, before adding, ‘until recently, that is.’

  Bert nodded, his eyes clouding momentarily. ‘The day we moved in, I told you that if things went well with the business, we wouldn’t be here for long.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right, you did say something like that.’ Elsie smiled. ‘It’s lucky I didn’t hold you to it though.’

  He smiled back ruefully. ‘You can hold me to it now, love. In fact, that’s why I’ve come home early. I’ve been to give an estimate for a couple moving to a smaller property, and from the moment I walked into their house I fell in love with it. So come on, get your coat on and I’ll take you to see it. If you like it – well, I’m going to buy it.’

  She gawked at her husband, unable to believe her ears. This had come like a bolt out of the blue. ‘Wait a minute,’ she begged. ‘Give me a chance to take this in, Bert.’

  ‘We’ve got to leave now, Elsie. I told the couple I would bring you back to see it and they’re expecting us.’

  She rose to her feet, her thoughts still racing. She knew the business was going well, but to own their own house, it was like a dream. Grabbing a comb, she quickly tidied her hair and after applying a dab of lipstick, grabbed her best coat out of the cupboard. ‘Right, I’m ready,’ she told her husband, following him out of the door.

  It’s beautiful, Elsie thought, as they pulled up outside the house. Bert was right – and even without seeing inside, she loved it. Driving here, she had felt her excitement mounting, realising that they were heading for Wimbledon, and to Elsie that was like coming home.

  As they got out of the car she gazed with delight at the wide, tree-lined avenue. Blossom trees, bare now, would be beautiful in the spring, she thought, picturing their froth of pink and white flowers. She turned to look at the semi-detached house again, loving the deep red bricks, mullioned windows and gabled roof, realising that it would look even better in the summer when the wisteria twined along the walls was in full bloom. ‘Oh Bert, it’s wonderful,’ she whispered, turning to smile at him.

  He took her arm and they walked through the gate leading to the front door. Mature shrubs bordered the path, some evergreen, others, including roses, neatly pruned.

  ‘I can’t wait to see inside,’ she told him, feeling a quiver of excitement.

  As the elderly couple escorted them around the ground floor, Elsie fell more and more in love with the house. From the moment she saw the oak panelling in the hall, to the time she stood on the red flagstones on the kitchen floor, she thought it was perfect. ‘Ann will love it too, Bert,’ she told him.

  ‘My husband will show you the bedrooms. I’m afraid I’m having difficulty with the stairs,’ the genteel lady told them.

  ‘Oh, is that why you’re moving?’ Elsie asked.

  ‘Yes. We’ve found a lovely little bungalow in Bournemouth, and though we’ll be sorry to leave this house, living by the coast will be some consolation.’

  Elsie smiled gently, sensing her sadness, before following her husband upstairs. The bedrooms were spacious and looking out of one of the windows, she was amazed to see that the back garden was over a hundred feet long. It was mostly laid to lawn at the moment, but she was already picturing it planted out with a profusion of summer flowers.

  ‘Well, love, shall I make them an offer?’ Bert asked, coming to stand behind her.

  ‘Yes! Oh yes, it’s perfect,’ she answered, turning to give him a quick hug.

  Back downstairs, Elsie gazed around the lovely big sitting room again, while Bert negotiated the asking price with the couple, thrilled to hear them accepting his offer almost immediately.

  ‘I can’t wait to move in,’ she told him as they returned to the car.

  ‘If we find a good solicitor, and there are no hitches along the way, we could be living here in just over a month or so.’

  It was only as they were driving back to Battersea that Elsie’s thoughts turned to her friends. She would miss the Marchants so much. They had become like an extended family, and the thought of moving away lowered her mood.

  ‘You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden, what’s the matter?’ Bert asked.

  ‘I was thinking about Ruth and Sally, Sadie too.’

  ‘Now then, Elsie, we’re only moving to Wimbledon, not the other end of the country. You’ll be able to see them often enough.’

  ‘It won’t be the same though, will it?’ she said doubtfully.

  ‘You’ll soon get to know the neighbours here,’ he answered.

  Yes, but will they be as friendly? she wondered, shaking her head in doubt. The Avenue had been practically deserted. No curtains twitching at windows, no children playing in the street, and somehow Elsie couldn’t imagine poking her head round their back doors to ask if the kettle was on.

  She twisted in her seat, looking back for a last glimpse of the house before they turned the corner. Oh, it was lovely – more than lovely, it was beautiful. How can you compare it with Candle Lane? she thought, chastising herself for being silly. Bert was right, she would make new friends. It just might take a little longer, that was all.

  ‘I’m going back to the yard for a little while,’ Bert told her as they arrived home and he pulled into the kerb.

  ‘All right, love,’ Elsie said, her thoughts still distracted. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  She had just taken her coat off and put the kettle on the hob, when the back door opened.

  ‘And where ’ave you been, all dolled up in your best bib and tucker?’ Ruth asked, grinning at her as she came into the kitchen.

  ‘You don’t miss much, do you?’ Elsie said, forcing a smile. ‘I’m just making a cuppa, do you want one?’

  ‘Can a duck swim?’

  Elsie smiled at Ruth’s quip, and as she poured boiling water into the teapot she took a deep breath, deciding to tell her friend straight away. ‘Bert took me to see a house.’

  ‘What did he do that for?’

  ‘He wants to buy it, love,’ she said, turning to see a stunned look on Ruth’s face.

  ‘So you’re moving then?’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes, in about a month or so. Look, Ruth, it’s only in Wimbledon so we can still see each other. I’ll come to visit you every week and you can come to me. There’s no need for us to lose touch.’

  Ruth nodded, her smile tremulous as she said, ‘I’m happy for you, really I am. It’s just come as a bit of a shock, that’s all. I don’t blame you for wanting to move away from this area; it’s really gone to the dogs. A lot of people from the Lane have gone and it ain’t the same now, is it? Joan Mason’s been given one
of them new flats the council ’ave built.’ She grimaced. ‘Though what on earth has possessed her to move into one of them is beyond me. They’re an eyesore and look like a pile of bleedin’ matchboxes.’

  Elsie could see that Ruth was being brave for her sake; only the fact that she was unconsciously wringing her hands betrayed her agitation. She kept the description of the house down to a minimum, her delight diminishing again in the face of her friend’s distress.

  Later, when Ann came home from work, her reaction was contrary to Elsie’s expectations too. Instead of being thrilled, she was horrified at the thought of leaving Battersea. She didn’t want to move away from Billy, and the journey to work would take ages, she complained, stomping up to her room in a sulk that was so out of character, it left Elsie reeling.

  When Bert came home that evening, he was obviously bewildered by the atmosphere as they sat round the table, eating dinner.

  ‘What’s the matter with everyone? Why all the long faces?’ he asked innocently.

  Ann scowled as she cut into her pork chop. ‘I don’t want to move, Dad,’ she told him.

  Seeing him stiffen, Elsie caught her daughter’s eyes, shaking her head reproachfully. ‘You’ll just have to get used to the idea, Ann. It’s a wonderful house and we’ve already agreed to buy it.’

  ‘I’ll stay here then. I can find a bedsit to rent,’ she said belligerently.

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Bert said, his voice a dangerously quiet growl. ‘You’re not old enough to leave home yet, my girl.’

  ‘I’m seventeen, Dad, and I’ll be eighteen in March. You can’t stop me leaving home if I want to.’

  Elsie was startled to see her usually mild-mannered husband rear out of his chair.

  ‘If you leave home, that’s it!’ he roared, his voice resounding in the small room. ‘I’ll wash my hands of you. First my son buggers off to Australia and now you’re making threats. Hasn’t it occurred to you that your mother and I need a fresh start, a chance to get away from this stinking area?’

  Ann’s face crumbled, and as she ran from the room, Elsie held out a restraining hand. ‘Wait, your father didn’t mean it.’

  Shaking off her mother’s touch, she bolted for the stairs while Bert, looking utterly deflated, sank onto his chair. ‘I’m sorry, Elsie, I don’t know what came over me. Perhaps I had better go and talk to her,’ he said worriedly.

  She shook her head. ‘Leave her, love. She’ll come round. We’re all still missing Arthur and it’s making us a bit touchy.’

  And, as predicted, after about fifteen minutes Ann walked sheepishly into the room, her eyes red from crying. ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know what made me act like that. Of course I won’t leave home.’

  Elsie smiled as Bert reached out and grasped Ann’s hand, his relief evident. ‘I’m sorry too, darling. Anyway, how could you leave your poor old dad?’

  ‘Well I can’t, can I? If you’re that old, you’ll need me to look after you,’ she replied, half-laughing and half-crying.

  Elsie sighed; they’d be all right now. And perhaps Bert was right – they did need a fresh start.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A week later, just as Sally was about to leave for work, Elsie came rushing in waving a letter. ‘It’s from Arthur,’ she cried excitedly.

  ‘How is he?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘He says it’s very hot and they’ve all been put in a hostel until they find their own accommodation. His job isn’t too bad, but there’s no unemployment out there so he might look around for something better.’ She frowned, scratching her head. ‘It doesn’t sound like he’s enjoying it much, does it?’

  ‘Blimey, give him time. He’s only just arrived,’ Ruth told her.

  Sally listened to the conversation, waiting for the news about Jenny, surprised when Elsie just rattled on about how Arthur said he’d been sea-sick on the journey and how glad he was to get off the ship. ‘What else has he got to say?’ she asked, glancing anxiously at the clock.

  ‘Nothing really, just that he misses us and hopes we’re all well. Are you off to work now, Sally?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered distantly, her thoughts confused. ‘I’m just going – see you later.’

  Hurrying down the Lane to the bus stop, she wondered why Arthur hadn’t told his mother about Jenny’s pregnancy. Was it because he was going to wait until they got married?

  Her thoughts drifted to Ann, dreading it when she moved to Wimbledon. God, she would miss her so much, Elsie too. They had been living next door for over seven years, she and Ann becoming like sisters, and though they had consoled themselves by arranging to see each other as much as possible, it wouldn’t be the same.

  She just made it by nine o’clock and unlocking the door, rushed into the shop. There was no sign of Sid so, hanging her coat in the back room, she returned to the shop, grabbing a duster and running it over the counter.

  ‘If you polish that glass much more it’ll fade away,’ Sid chuckled, appearing in the doorway and handing her a cup of tea. ‘I’ve put two sugars in it, Sally. Drink it while it’s nice and hot, it’ll warm you up.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully, taking a gulp of the strong tea. Almost immediately she paled, clamping a hand over her mouth as her stomach heaved. ‘Oh God, Sid, I feel sick,’ she cried, running from the shop and into the toilet, just making it in time.

  Afterwards, staring at her distorted reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink, she wondered why she had been sick again. Still feeling slightly nauseous she splashed cold water onto her face, hoping it would revive her. It was then that the penny dropped and she clutched the side of the wash basin, her knuckles white. She hadn’t had a period last month and now realised that she’d just missed another one. Oh God, she thought, I’m pregnant. She swayed, her heart thumping with fear. What would her mother say? How could she tell her?

  ‘Sally, are you all right?’ Sid called from outside the door.

  ‘Yes, I’m just coming,’ she croaked, roughly drying her face.

  When she returned to the shop Sid gazed at her, a question in his eyes. ‘You don’t look too good, Sally. Maybe you should go home.’

  ‘No, no, I’ll be all right,’ she told him, an edge of panic in her voice. How could she go home? Her mother would want to know what was wrong.

  ‘Sally, do you know why you’re being sick?’

  She stared at Sid, surprised by the intuitive question, and flushing, she grabbed the duster again, polishing the counter as she mumbled, ‘I expect I’ve eaten something that’s upset my tummy.’

  ‘No, gel, you’ve been sick for three mornings on the trot now – and I think you know why.’

  Rubbing the glass vigorously she ignored his question, but he grasped her arm, turning her gently round, his eyes deep with compassion. ‘You’re having a baby, Sally. I can remember when my Rachel suffered from morning sickness too.’

  Her shoulders slumped. ‘Are you going to give me the sack?’ she whispered.

  ‘No, of course not, but you’ll be leaving to get married, won’t you?’

  ‘No, I won’t be getting married. The father’s in Australia.’

  ‘Oh, my life, Sally. What are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘My mum will go mad when she finds out.’

  Sid shook his head, obviously worried by her dilemma. ‘Well, you won’t be able to hide it from her for long, Sally.’

  That evening, making her way home, Sally thought about how understanding Sid had been and prayed her mother would be the same. And her gran, how would she take it?

  She arrived home, finding them discussing Elsie’s move again, both deeply affected. ‘We’ll never get neighbours as good as them again,’ her mum was saying as she walked into the room. ‘Hello, Sally, you look frozen, dinner won’t be long,’ Ruth gabbled, turning back to the subject of Elsie. ‘I’m pleased for her, really I am, but I wish she was staying.’

  Sadie smiled at her gr
anddaughter, motioning her over to the fire. ‘Come and warm yerself up, love,’ she invited, before responding, ‘I know what you mean, Ruth. They’ve been bloody good to us over the years.’

  Sally sat down, staring at the fire, and only dimly hearing the conversation in the background. Her thoughts raced. She had to tell them, there was no choice, but she quivered with fear at the thought.

  Her eyes were fixed on the flickering flames, and she became mesmerised as a picture began to form. Was it her imagination – was that really Arthur she could see standing on the prow of a ship, gazing out to sea? She blinked, startled as her mum’s voice intruded, the vision disappearing.

  ‘Come on, Sally, I said dinner’s on the table. Blimey, you were miles away.’

  She joined them at the table, where she sat gazing at her plate, piled high with braised steak and mashed potatoes. Her mouth was dry with nerves, and picking up her fork, she stabbed half-heartedly at a piece of meat.

  ‘Are you all right, Sal? You look a bit pale,’ her mother said anxiously.

  Putting her fork down, the piece of steak uneaten, Sally braced herself before saying, ‘I’ve got something to tell you both.’

  ‘Yeah. Well spit it out then.’

  Looking at her mother and gran across the table, Sally struggled to find the words, but her throat was constricted and she ended up just shaking her head in despair.

  ‘Have you got the sack, is that it?’ Ruth asked sympathetically. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll soon get another job.’

  ‘Oh Mum, I … I’m …’ she gasped, her eyes filling with tears.

  ‘What’s the matter? It can’t be that bad, surely.’

  The sympathy was almost too much, and finding herself still unable to speak, she turned to look at her gran. But it was no good, the words just wouldn’t come, and she lowered her head.