Molly’s head slowly lifted. Nathan must have been unable to face Jessica with the truth. Perhaps he still loved her daughter? Oh, she hoped so! ‘Could you write and ask if he really wants the factory closed down? It’s doing well, as you know. I’ll stay on if it’s his wish.’ She stood up and held out her hand. ‘Thank you for giving me your time, Mr Taylor.’
He smiled gravely as he shook it. ‘It is my pleasure, Mrs Payne.’
Molly went out into the sunshine, heart-sore but feeling much more able to cope. Nathan had not rejected her daughter in the eyes of the world and for this she was grateful. It was obvious there was not going to be a divorce for the moment. But what about when this terrible war was over? What then? Would time alter things? Could Nathan ever forgive her? As she passed black-clad women in Dale Street, Molly thought, I’m sick of black. If Nathan agreed to keep the factory open and in her charge she would make a change. Most women wouldn’t stay in mourning indefinitely and subdued colours would be the way ahead: greys, mauves and blues, in plain and simple styles.
Within days she received a letter from Lottie saying she could keep the factory going.
Molly wondered what was going on in Nathan’s head. She still loved and missed him and found it hard to accept that she had lost him. But he must have calmed down and forgiven her enough to allow her to continue working. For that she was grateful. Now she had to live her life without him.
Molly had given Frank little thought during the last few months so that it came as something of a shock when Ma called to tell her that the troop carrier he had been serving on had been torpedoed and he was reported missing. Molly could only think that the news had come too late for her to feel anything but numb disbelief. Within days, though, she had another visitor with news of Frank. Jack Fletcher.
‘Long time no see,’ Molly said drily, having long forgiven him.
His weather-beaten face turned the colour of beetroot. ‘I’m sorry, lass. I behaved like an old fool that time and I’ve been too embarrassed to visit thee since.’
‘So what are you doing here now?’
‘I thought I’d best let thee know that Frank’s been picked up, along with our Rob.’
She couldn’t believe it! ‘That figures,’ she said finally. ‘He has nine lives, Frank has. But I didn’t realise they were on the same ship?’
‘Aye, lass. Worked in the stoke hole together. If they hadn’t been off shift at the time and on deck they wouldn’t have survived. Strange when thee thinks how they wanted to bash each other’s head in at Doris’s wedding. Jealousy’s an evil thing.’ Jack had the grace to blush as he realised what he’d said and left swiftly.
Ma called in on Molly and Cath some weeks later to say Frank was home. ‘He’s only a shadow of himself and is behaving all queer. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him,’ she complained. ‘He had a bad bang on the head, yer know.’
‘Our marriage is dead, Ma,’ said Molly firmly. ‘I don’t know what you think I can do about him.’
She grumbled on about a wife’s duty but Molly ignored her. It was not to be the last of Ma’s visits, however. Every time she came it was to complain about Frank. It seemed he was incapable of holding a job down. ‘He gets me down, moping about. He’s all nervy. I can’t be doing with it. I’ve Josie to look after as well as the lodgers, and I’ve had to get meself a cleaning job. It’s going to kill me! Couldn’t yer take him back? You’re his wife. It’s yer duty.’
Molly did not want Frank back but when he turned, up on her doorstep one evening, looking like the dregs of mankind, she realised that perhaps she owed him something. He was after all the father of the daughter she had given away to another man. ‘You can stay but I’m not sleeping with you,’ she told him firmly.
‘I couldn’t do anything if you did,’ mumbled Frank ‘Nothing seems to be working properly. Not me head, nothing.’
Molly bought another single bed and Frank slept in George’s room. He was no trouble but she could never forget he was in the house. He was constantly muttering to himself but did not actually cause her any extra work. He looked after himself, even cooking and taking the washing to the wash house, mumbling about the cockroaches he’d had to crunch through in the boiler room when he’d worked there. He would make her a cup of tea when she came in but they never had any conversation beyond hello, thank you or goodnight. Molly found this unnerving at times but couldn’t help pitying him, remembering the man he once was.
Cath decided to move out. ‘I can’t cope with his mutterings and that vague expression he wears. For all we know he might turn violent again. Jimmy’s mam’s said several times it would be more convenient if I lived with her.’
Molly still had not heard anything from Nathan and as it looked as if the war could be coming to an end, she got in touch with Mr Taylor.
‘Ah! I’m glad you phoned me, Mrs Payne. I was going to write to you. Mrs Collins will be paying you a visit next Thursday week before she goes on holiday.’
‘What about Mr Collins?’ said Molly, deeply disappointed.
‘He’s having some kind of operation on his leg. In a few weeks’ time he’ll be in touch.’
Immediately Molly began to worry about Nathan, wondering what kind of operation this was. She hoped he wouldn’t lose his leg. But Lottie would know what was happening. Molly could ask her when she arrived next week.
She could not help smiling when Lottie drove up to the factory on a motor bike with sidecar attached, wearing goggles, a long leather coat and the kind of helmet airmen wore. ‘You can’t say that’s one of the latest fashions,’ Molly told her, hiding her amusement.
‘Sensible, though. And I’ve become immensely sensible,’ said Lottie, shaking out her hair.
Molly smiled. ‘Is it sensible to ride such a thing? And those clothes… not very feminine.’
‘Who cares? Haven’t we proved we’re equal to men? Anyway,’ Lottie strode into the factory alongside Molly, taking her leather gauntlets off on the way, ‘everything OK here?’
‘Fine. How’s Nathan? And Jessica?’
‘Blundellsands, seeing Grandma. Then we’re going up to the Lakes.’ She sat down in front of the desk. ‘How’s your husband? Have you heard from him?’
Molly glanced at her secretary and sent her out for tea and biscuits. ‘Yes, I’ve got him back living with me. His mother didn’t want him. Frank’s in a bit of mess. Nerves shot to pieces. Torpedoed twice.’ She paused. ‘How is Nathan, really? You haven’t talked about the operation.’
‘Oh, he’s fine. Back home,’ said Lottie carelessly. ‘All the staff are fussing over him. He’s got to rest his leg.’
‘Poor Nathan.’
‘Nonsense! He’s enjoying himself. You know how men love being mothered.’
She left an hour later.
Molly had barely been in the building five minutes the next day when she was called to the telephone. ‘It’s Mr Collins,’ whispered Miss Jones. ‘He sounds terribly upset.’
Molly’s heart missed a beat as she lifted the mouthpiece. ‘Nathan?’ she said tentatively.
‘Molly, something terrible’s happened. Lottie’s crashed that damned machine of hers. She’s dead and Jessica’s unconscious in hospital. I thought you might want to go and be with her.’
Molly’s knees buckled and she had to sit down. ‘She’s not going to die?’ Her mouth felt as dry as a husk.
He did not answer, saying only, ‘I’m sorry to break it to you like this but there was no other way. I’m hoping to get there myself but I’ll have to find someone to drive me.’
‘Where is she?’ croaked Molly.
‘Kendal. You should be able to get a train.’
‘How did it happen?’ She wanted to keep him talking just a little longer, gaining strength from the sound of his voice.
‘Apparently there was a thunderstorm. The police said there’d been a lot of rain in the area round Shapfell. Lottie lost control avoiding a motor lorry. I’ll have to go now. I want to get the
re as quickly as I can.’ The line went dead.
‘What is it, Mrs Payne? Shall I get you a cup of tea?’ offered Miss Jones.
‘Yes… no.’ Molly stood up, one hand to her head. ‘I’m going to have to take a couple of days off. I must see Miss Lightfoot, she’ll have to take over.’
‘But what’s happened? Who’s hurt?’
Molly stared at her. She wasn’t seeing her secretary’s face, only her daughter’s. ‘Mrs Collins has been killed,’ she said, and hurried out.
Frank was not in the house so she packed a few things and left a note for George, eight now and mature for his years, before catching a tram to Exchange station. As she sat on the train she was aware of how scared she was of what she might find at the end of her journey. At the same time she was comforted by the thought of Nathan’s getting in touch with her.
When she reached the hospital the Sister refused to let her on to the ward. ‘Only family,’ she decreed.
For a moment Molly considered telling her truth, that Jessica was her daughter, but Nathan arrived just at that moment. She gazed at him hungrily. Pain was etched into the lines of his face and, like Frank, he looked older than his years.
He brushed the nurse aside, took hold of Molly’s arm and limped into the ward with her. She could hardly believe it was his hand on her arm. ‘I’ve forgotten my stick,’ he said gruffly, as if reading her mind.
The nurse hurried after them. ‘Go away, woman!’ roared Nathan. ‘Isn’t it enough that my wife has been killed? Mrs Payne has known my daughter since she was born. Now out of the way.’
‘Mr Collins,’ she chided. ‘I just wanted to tell you that your daughter’s regained consciousness and which bed she’s in.’
He stared at her then smiled. ‘I apologise. I was very rude.’
She blushed and went on ahead of them, stopping at a bed right at the end of the ward. ‘Here she is.’The nurse smoothed the folded down sheet. ‘Don’t get her too excited.’ She hurried off with a whisper of starched linen.
Jessica’s eyes opened and she gazed up at them. ‘Hello, Daddy. Mrs Payne, what are you doing here?’
Nathan sat on the chair at her bedside, his bad leg straight out in front of him, and in a gentle voice told her what had happened. Jessica burst into tears and Nathan put his arm round her as the girl buried her head against his chest.
Suddenly Molly could not bear it. Nathan did love Jessica and the girl loved him. They belonged together. She felt like an outsider. She left them alone, feeling an aching sensation inside her, and thinking what a fool she had been to forfeit her rightful place at Jessica’s bedside. She went to the station but the train wasn’t due for a couple of hours so she wandered aimlessly about the town, thinking of what she had lost.
Nathan found her standing on a bridge overlooking the River Kent. He was angry at first and she didn’t blame him. ‘Why didn’t you stay? What the hell do you think I sent for you for? It hasn’t done my leg a bit of good, chasing round trying to find you.’
‘I’m sorry. But I felt I had no right to be there,’ said Molly firmly.
‘In God’s name, I gave you the right when I rang you up and asked you to come,’ yelled Nathan. ‘I know I accused you of all sorts of things that time in the hospital but it came as a hell of shock and I was hurt. And look at me when I’m damn well shouting at you!’
Molly lifted her head and smiled faintly. ‘I don’t blame you for what you said. I deserved it. You’re far more her father than I am her mother. You were right when you said I was a lousy parent.’
He lifted one hand and let it drop. ‘Did I really say that?’ His tone was milder.
‘Not in so many words but that’s what you meant and I agree with you.’
He said, exasperated, ‘Stop sounding so bloody virtuous! We’ve got to talk but let’s go down to the bank where I can sit.’ He took her arm as he had earlier and leaned on it. ‘I hated you for not trusting me with the truth but I think I understand now why you did it. But on top of that you got me to love another man’s child. And bloody Frank’s at that!’
‘I never did it to gain anything for myself You have to believe that,’ she said intensely.
‘Of course I believe it. I haven’t forgotten the times you wouldn’t accept money from me.’
They were silent a moment.
Then Molly said with a sigh, ‘I wanted the rearing of my own child. Instead, I’ve let other people be more of an influence in her life. I wanted her to have the kind of future money could bring. I wanted her to have you for a father, too. I love you both, Nathan. Giving her up was a real sacrifice.’
He nodded. ‘How’s George?’
Molly’s face lit up. ‘He keeps me going when I feel down.’
They had come to the seat and both sat down, gazing at the fast-flowing river.
Nathan broke the silence. ‘So where do we go from here now Lottie’s dead? She told me what you said about Frank. How the hell could you take him back?’
‘I’ve asked myself that a thousand times. But perhaps if you saw him you might understand. Ma can’t cope with him. Cath has enough on her plate. There’s no one else but me. We don’t share a bedroom or anything like that but he needs someone to look after him.’ She remembered the look she occasionally caught in Frank’s eyes. ‘He’s a lost soul,’ she whispered. ‘A lost soul,’ she repeated desperately. ‘And I feel partly to blame for that. I’ve messed his life up as well as yours and mine.’ She jumped to her feet, feeling terrible about what she was going to do. ‘Forgive me, Nathan, but I must go. I’m sure Jessica’s going to be all right now.’
‘You’re going?’ He looked at her in disbelief.
She hesitated. ‘I remember you telling me once that you took on Miss Lightfoot because she had a crippled mother. She hadn’t the experience for the job but she needed the extra money it brought. Well, Frank’s a mental cripple and he needs me. I love you, believe me, but you have Jessica to love you as well. Frank has no one.’ She turned away.
‘Moll! Don’t go, please!’
His plea almost broke her but she kept on going, knowing she might never be happy again.
Chapter Twenty
It was on the train going home that she decided she would have to leave the factory. She had made a fair amount of money and so she decided to find a shop with a work room on Scotland Road and buy a few secondhand sewing machines on which to continue to make women’s clothes; nothing too fancy or expensive. The kind of dresses, skirts and blouses for which there was a ready market. Perhaps eventually she might be able to afford a shop selling high-class fashions in Bold Street.
So she did just that, asking Mr Taylor to inform Nathan of her decision. She felt certain it would be easier for them both this way. In the days that followed, every time she set eyes on Frank she felt angry with him because she wanted Nathan. She still half expected to hear from him. Perhaps he would write to her angrily. Demand she give up George. But the only communication she received was through his solicitor, and that was about the business. Perhaps he had not believed her when she’d said she loved him?
Molly was grateful for one thing at least: that George and the man he regarded as his father kept each other company when she was busy. More often than not he and Frank could be found at a place the locals called Sebastapol where games of pitch and toss went on, or near the canal watching the barges being loaded. Sometimes Frank would join the boys swimming in the ‘scaldies’ at the back of Tate’s sugar refinery, the water warmed by a factory outlet. She thought how different her son’s life would have been if Frank had not survived when his ship was torpedoed. Then hated herself for almost wishing her husband dead.
One day Molly was surprised to see Jack Fletcher enter the house together with Frank and George at the end of a long day. ‘What are you doing here? What’s Frank done?’ she said, immediately fearful.
Jack smiled. ‘Hasn’t done anything, lass. He wants to come on the barge with us.’
‘You’re jokin
g?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think it’s such a bad idea. Mrs McNally tells me thee’ll be worrying about him once the lad’s back at school. Young as he is, she tells me George keeps his eye on Frank but he’s strong enough to help me load and unload. So what does thee think, Moll? I thought this was one way I could make things up to thee for that time. Will I take him off thee hands?’
‘Oh, Uncle Jack! I could kiss you,’ she said, and did. He blushed but she knew he would not take it seriously as he might have done once.
The next time Molly saw Mrs McNally, she thanked her. ‘You don’t know what a difference it’s made. The worry was always there at the back of my mind. Frank’s even sleeping on the boat now so I have no cares about him at all.’
‘I’m glad to help yer, girl.’
‘How’s Doris?’
‘She’s getting on OK. Still looking after the old lady. Sees Mr Collins sometimes, but he doesn’t look happy, she says.’
Molly felt a familiar ache at that but she had made her bed and had to lie on it.
* * *
As she cut through a swathe of white satin for a first communion dress Molly thought of Nathan, longing for the feel of his arms about her. Ever since Mrs McNally’s mention of him she had felt restless. When she was home in the evenings she was unbearably lonely. George was often down by the canal talking to the bargees. Occasionally at weekends he would hitch a ride with Jack and Frank and be away all night.
Sometimes she would walk along the towpath in the early morning before going into the shop. At such times she would see her husband. The hard physical work of shifting coal had improved Frank’s physique and hours in the open air had brought back the colour to his cheeks but his mental capacity was still limited.
There was a knock at the door and Molly went to answer it.
Mrs McNally stood there, obviously bursting to tell her something. ‘I doubt yer’ve heard,’ she said, ‘Mrs Collins died and is getting buried beside her husband in that place up Lancashire. Our Doris said I was to tell yer.’
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