by Kitty Neale
Amy looked at the address, saw that Carol was living in Chelsea, and then carried on reading. It was lovely that Carol wanted them to meet, possibly after the honeymoon, and that made Amy smile. They were only going away for the weekend to a hotel in Brighton and then it was back to work for both of them on Monday.
‘Has Carol told you where she is now?’ her mother asked.
‘Yes,’ Amy said, giving her the letter. While her mother was reading it, Amy was deep in thought. She had the day off and wasn’t seeing Tommy that evening so there really wasn’t anything to stop her. It was just a matter of timing, but if she left it until after six Carol was sure to be there, even if she was planning to go out later that evening.
‘I bet you’re pleased she’s got in touch,’ Phyllis said, passing the letter back, ‘but we’d best get a move on or we’ll be late for our appointments at the hairdressers.’
Amy put her shoes on, and grabbed a jacket. Rose had insisted that her mother take the day off too, and soon they were leaving the house, only to pull up short when Mabel trotted up to them.
She looked a bit nervous, but thrust a parcel into Amy’s hand. ‘It’s a little something from me and Jack. I’ve known you since you were a little girl, Amy, and I’m fond of you so please accept it.’
With that Mabel turned on her heels and shot back into her own house, leaving Amy looking wide-eyed at her mother and asking, ‘Now what am I supposed to do?’
‘I don’t know, but I suppose you either give it back or write Mabel a thank you note.’
‘I’ll put it indoors for now,’ Amy said and that done, they were soon on their way again. It seemed ironic that she’d just had a wedding present from Carol, and another from a woman who had torn her friend apart.
Remembering that, Amy wished she had thrown Mabel’s present back in her face.
Jeremy was in the office with Tom, waiting for a nod of approval as his brother went over his figures. It was only a small estimate, nothing really to tax his brain, but he still hoped he’d got it right.
‘Well done,’ Tom said. ‘This is fine.’
Jeremy felt like he was in front of a teacher instead of his kid brother, and it didn’t sit well. ‘It was a doddle, and I think I’ve got the hang of it all now.’
‘Yes, you’re nearly there,’ Tom agreed, reaching into his pocket for his inhaler.
‘Are you all right?’ Jeremy asked, thinking that Tom looked a bit wan.
‘My chest is a bit tight, that’s all.’
‘Is everything set for your big day tomorrow?’
‘Yes, I’ve moved all my stuff into our house, and Amy has done the same,’ Tom said, but then he began to cough, leaning over the desk with his hand on his chest.
‘You sound rough,’ Jeremy said when Tom was left gasping for air and reaching for his inhaler again. ‘You’re not going down with bronchitis again are you?’
‘I hope not, it’s the last thing I need. I’ll take it easy today and I might leave a bit earlier than usual. In the meantime, would you mind taking the wages to the men on site?’
‘Of course not,’ Jeremy said, more than happy to get out of the unit for a while. Tom got the pay-packets out of the small safe and Jeremy stuffed them in his pocket before heading for the van. As he drove off, his thoughts turned to his coming role as a salesman and the car that would come with it. He’d love a Jaguar, but as he doubted Tom would agree to that, a decent Austin would do for now.
When he got to the site, Jeremy found all the men at work installing windows, and after giving them their pay-packets he checked their progress as if he knew what he was doing. ‘Everything looks fine, and are we still on schedule?’ he asked Dick Hutton, the man Tom had put in charge of the crews.
‘Yes,’ he said, nodding, ‘but can I have a private word?’
‘Of course,’ Jeremy said, walking a distance away from the other men.
‘Mr Frost always gives the pay-packets to me and I hand them out to the men at the end of the day.’
Jeremy shrugged. ‘So, they got paid early. I don’t see that as a problem.’
‘You should do. With their pay-packets in their pockets there’s always the danger they won’t show up again after lunch.’
‘If that’s the case I’ll see that they’re sacked,’ Jeremy said, annoyed at the man’s implied criticism, ‘and you can tell them that.’
Dick looked at him for a moment as if about to say something, but then he just shook his head, as though in disgust, before walking away.
Jeremy didn’t go after him – instead he went back to the van, thinking that Dick Hutton was another one like Len who didn’t show him any respect. They’d be sorry, both of them, and though they might try to suck up to him in the near future, it would be too late.
Amy was pleased with her haircut. She hated her curls, wished her hair was straight and sleek, but at least with a shorter cut, it looked tidier. It was five thirty and she was sitting on a bus on her way to see Carol, thinking as it crossed the River Thames that she knew little about other areas of London.
When she got off the bus in Chelsea, Amy had to ask directions twice before she found Tedworth Square and Carol’s flat in one of the tall houses. For a moment she paused, hoping that Carol wouldn’t mind her turning up unexpectedly, but then finding the right doorbell she pressed it firmly.
It seemed ages before the door was opened, but at last Carol was looking at her wide-eyed as she said, ‘Amy, how … oh, you must have got my parcel.’
‘Yes, I did and thank you.’
‘Come in,’ Carol said, ‘but be prepared for a surprise.’
Amy followed Carol up what seemed to be flight after flight of stairs, until at last they reached the top landing where she opened a door, calling, ‘We’ve got a visitor,’ before urging Amy inside.
Amy’s jaw dropped and she gawked at the woman smiling at her. At last she found her voice, but it was high and sounded like a question. ‘Mrs Cole?’
‘Yes, it’s me, Amy. I left because I was unhappy in my marriage, but I should have kept in touch with Carol and
my sons. I didn’t because I feared they’d never forgive me for walking out, but I was wrong of course. When the boys found me I was shocked to hear about what happened while I was away. They persuaded me to come back, and so here I am.’
‘We’re dead chuffed, Amy,’ Carol said.
‘I’m sure you are, but Mrs Cole, you should know that Mabel Povis thinks you went off with Tommy’s dad.’
‘George Frost! But that’s ridiculous.’
‘We didn’t believe it and told her so.’
‘I expect she’s still spread it around though, but not to worry. When she eventually sets eyes on me Mabel Povis will have to eat her words.’
‘Amy, it’s lovely to see you, but what are you doing here?’ Carol asked. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be getting married in the morning?’
‘Yes, but it wouldn’t be the same without you there. It isn’t too late, you could still come, you too Mrs Cole, along with Dave and Paul.’
‘Amy, I’d love to,’ Carol said. ‘What about you, Mum?’
‘Well if you don’t mind, Amy, I think I’ll decline, but I can’t speak for my sons.’
‘Of course I don’t mind, but if you change your mind, you’ll be welcome.’
‘I’ll have to sort out something to wear,’ Carol said worriedly, ‘and what time have I got to be there?’
Amy told her, and about the reception, Carol’s mum then wanting to hear all about Rose and Samuel Jacobs. Unlike some, she wasn’t judgemental, and then Paul and Dave arrived home. Amy saw that they looked surprised to see her, but soon recovered when Carol explained that she’d given her the address. Amy invited them to the wedding, both thanking her but saying they were working overtime the next morning.
‘Mum, we’re starving,’ Paul complained.
‘I’ve made a stew and it only needs warming up,’ she said, going through a door that Amy presumed led to th
e kitchen.
‘Cor, Mum’s stew,’ Dave said, licking his lips. ‘I can’t
wait.’
‘Come on then, let’s get cleaned up,’ Paul said. ‘She won’t let us sit down until we do.’
Carol grinned, saying as her brothers left the room, ‘As you can tell, they prefer Mum’s cooking to mine.’
‘I should go now,’ Amy said, ‘but I’ll see you tomorrow at the registry office.’
‘Yes, you certainly will,’ Carol agreed.
Amy gave her a hug and then, telling her that she’d find her own way out, she left, smiling happily that her oldest and best friend would be there at her wedding.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tommy opened his eyes on Saturday morning and blinked blearily up at his mother.
‘I heard you coughing in the night. Are you all right?’ she asked.
It was a fight to draw breath and Tommy struggled to sit up. ‘I don’t feel too good,’ he admitted, ‘but I’ll make it to the registry office.’
‘I doubt that. You don’t look capable of getting out of bed.’
Tommy’s chest felt as if a band of steel was enclosing it and he reached for his inhaler, saying after using it, ‘I’ll be all right. I’m getting up now.’
With a huff his mother left the room. It was bronchitis, Tommy knew that, but nothing was going to stop him from getting married that morning. He got up, sat on the edge of the bed, but then his door opened again and Jeremy hovered on the threshold as he said, ‘Mum said your chest is bad again.’
‘It’s a bit tight, that’s all. I’m just off to have a bath.’
‘Good idea, get in quick before Mum hogs it,’ Jeremy said. ‘See you when you come downstairs.’
Tommy was glad of the privacy as he slowly made his way to the bathroom, having to pause once to draw breath. He turned on the taps and as the room filled with steam he found it helped, and after lying in the hot water for a while he was able to cough up some of the mucus, which made his breathing a little easier.
At ten thirty they were ready, Jeremy looking tall, ruddy and handsome in his new suit. In contrast Tommy felt weak and washed-out, but his mother said, ‘Don’t you both look nice.’
‘You look great, Mum,’ Jeremy said and she smiled at his compliment.
The car they had hired arrived, and Tommy had arranged another one to take Amy and her parents to the registry office. The wind was blustery as they walked outside, but it was only a few steps to the car and moments later they were on their way. ‘Well, this is it, Tom, your last hour as a single man,’ Jeremy joked.
Tommy was hit by a bout of coughing and had serious doubts that he’d be well enough to travel to Brighton for their brief honeymoon. He feared for their wedding night, hated the thought of letting Amy down, and looking at his strapping brother, Tommy felt less than a man.
When Amy arrived at the registry office she got out of the car, and seeing Tommy there waiting for her, she smiled with joy.
‘Amy, you … you look lovely,’ he said.
Amy had chosen a calf-length, semi-flared white dress, with an inset of lace at the neck. A band of small blue flowers sat in her hair, which matched her little bouquet. However, she hardly took in the compliment. Tommy looked ashen and she said, ‘What’s wrong? You look so pale.’
‘It’s just a bit of a bad chest again,’ he said.
‘It’s more than that,’ Celia snapped. ‘I think it’s
bronchitis.’
‘I’m fine,’ Tommy insisted as he reached out to take Amy’s hand. ‘Come on, I think we should go inside.’
They were only a small group, Amy thought, her mother looking lovely in a matching dress and jacket of stiff cream grosgrain. Rose was in pale green silk, her suit immaculately cut, and her hat a large one with a brim which she was holding down as though worried that the wind would snatch it away. Celia was in apricot silk, and if Amy wasn’t so worried about Tommy, she might have smiled at the way she and Rose were eyeing each other.
They were told that the registrar wasn’t quite ready for them, and while waiting, Tommy started to cough. Thankfully it didn’t last long and after using his inhaler he stowed it away in his pocket again, just as Carol dashed through the doors.
‘Thank goodness I made it,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I thought I was going to be late. Oh, Amy, you look lovely.’
‘Thanks, and you look nice too,’ Amy said, liking Carol’s red dress and short navy blue jacket with red piping around the lapels.
‘Tommy, are you okay?’ Carol asked. ‘You look a bit rough.’
He was about to answer when they were called in, and Amy was aware of his laboured breathing as they walked into the room. There were chairs arranged in rows, and a highly polished mahogany desk in front of them, enhanced by a large vase of flowers.
The registrar greeted them, the formalities dealt with, but then everything seemed to happen so quickly. In what felt like such a short time, words were exchanged and she was suddenly Tommy’s wife. She lifted her eyes to meet his and he bent to kiss her, softly saying, ‘Hello, Mrs Frost.’
The name felt so strange to Amy, but then Tommy began to cough again, and she hated to see him struggling to breathe. When he recovered they signed the register, and then they were on their way outside again when her mother and Rose showered them with confetti. ‘Congratulations,’ they chorused.
As Amy laughed, and shook some out of her hair, she noticed a parked car a short distance away, the two occupants inside watching them. There was something odd about their appearance; the man wearing a hat with the brim bent low and the woman with a scarf tied around her head that partly shrouded her face. Despite the fact that they were trying to hide their identity, Amy thought she recognised them and her eyes widened. She turned to Tommy, about to tell him when he began to cough again, bent double, and the moment was lost as the car drove off.
‘This wind is taking my breath away,’ Tommy gasped.
‘I’m not sure we should go to the reception,’ Amy said worriedly.
‘No, it’s all right. I’ll be fine.’
‘I hardly think so,’ Celia said.
‘Mum, don’t fuss,’ Tommy said tiredly.
‘Right then, let’s get some photographs,’ Jeremy suggested.
He had taken so many that Amy thought he must have used up a roll of film, but at last she and Tommy got into the car and sat holding hands. She smiled at Tommy and he kissed her, but his lips felt hot, as though he was feverish, and she said, ‘Tommy, I don’t think we should go to Brighton.’
‘You said that about the reception, but this time I won’t argue. I’m sorry, Amy.’
‘Don’t be. We can always go another time,’ she said, and soon they were pulling up outside Rose’s house.
Celia looked around the large drawing room and despite herself, she was impressed. She’d expected to find that Rose had furnished it with tacky modern furniture and garish ornaments, but instead everything was tasteful, down to the obviously expensive Persian rugs and the crystal chandeliers. Rose’s outfit had been a surprise too, the suit obviously designer, along with her handbag, shoes and gloves.
‘Champagne, madam?’ a waiter asked pompously.
‘Thank you,’ Celia said, taking a fluted glass from the silver tray. Rose had certainly pushed the boat out, she thought, hiring waiters and caterers.
‘Tom just told me that they aren’t going to Brighton,’ Jeremy said.
‘I should think not. He’s in no condition to travel.’
‘Would you all make your way through to the dining room,’ Rose said. ‘Lunch is served.’
‘I don’t know who she thinks she is,’ Celia hissed to Jeremy. ‘Look at her, trying to act like a lady when everyone knows she’s a tart.’
Jeremy made no reply and as they walked through to the dining room, Celia saw that again, it was beautifully furnished. There was a two-tier wedding cake on the centre of the long table, which everyone admired, and then finding their
place names, they all sat down.
Celia had to endure toasts to the happy couple, a silly speech from Amy’s father, but at last the food was served. Celia just wanted to get the meal over with and leave. She had nothing in common with these people, but then, when they were nearly through the second course Thomas began to cough, so badly that he was unable to catch his breath.
Amy looked helpless and pushing back her chair, Celia said to Jeremy, ‘Come on, I think we need to get Thomas home and into bed.’
‘Mum, he doesn’t live with us now. His home is with Amy.’
Celia saw that all eyes were on her and felt a fool, but she kept her dignity by saying, ‘I am fully aware of that, but when Thomas is this ill he needs constant care.’
‘I’ll see that he gets it,’ Amy said. ‘I just need to get him home.’
‘Take my car,’ Samuel offered.
‘I’ll drive,’ Jeremy volunteered.
Celia said quickly, ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘There’s no need,’ Amy said. ‘Please stay and finish your meal.’
‘But …’
‘Mum, we’ll be fine,’ Thomas interrupted; the coughing fit over though he sounded breathless. ‘I’m sorry, Rose, you … you’ve gone to so much trouble and I hate to leave.’
‘Don’t be daft. The caterers did all the work. You get yourself home, and into bed. By the look of you, it’s the best place for you.’
Thomas nodded, but then he began coughing again. ‘Right, come on, let’s go,’ Jeremy said. ‘I’ll be back as soon as Tom’s settled.’
‘I’ll save your pudding for you,’ Rose called.
‘Make sure you ring the doctor,’ Celia demanded, fuming. She doubted Amy was capable of looking after Thomas, and though she hated the thought of having to go to their house, she’d call in to see him in the morning and whether Amy liked it or not, if necessary, she’d insist on taking over his care.
As though he’d been holding himself together, Tommy seemed to give in when they arrived at Lark Rise and got out of the car. Amy saw that he could barely walk and Jeremy had to hold him up as she unlocked the door to go inside.
‘I’ll get him into bed,’ Jeremy said. ‘You’d better ring the doctor.’
