A Strong Hand to Hold

by Anne Bennett

  But eventually, the Mass drew to a close and they filed out of the church into the spring sunshine. Many people spoke to them, but neither Jenny nor Linda had any desire to linger; their eyes were focused on the road at the end of the drive where Jenny could see Bob waiting for her, a haversack strapped to his back.

  Dr Sanders was out of his car leaning on the bonnet talking to Bob and he smiled when he saw the two girls. They pushed the wheelchair in front of them, for though Linda needed it on the long haul to church, she refused to get into it for the short walk to Peter Sanders’s car. ‘I thought you were never coming,’ he said. ‘Did you pray for us all in there?’

  ‘Do you need prayers. Doctor?’ Jenny asked lightly, and Peter answered: ‘Show me a man who doesn’t.’

  ‘Are we going straight to the graveyard?’ Linda said, cutting straight across their banter.

  ‘No, we’re not, young lady,’ the doctor said. ‘We’re going first to my home, where if you’re lucky my mother will make you a mug of cocoa and offer you a biscuit perhaps, while I cut some daffodils from the garden. Then we’ll go.’

  ‘Oh great,’ Linda said. ‘Jenny should come to your house, too. She’s not even had breakfast.’

  ‘Hasn’t she? She’s very welcome.’

  ‘No, no, it’s all right,’ Jenny said. ‘Really.’

  ‘I forgot you’d probably have taken Communion,’ Bob said. ‘But it’s fine, Doc. I have enough food to feed an army here. We’ll stop and have a late breakfast.

  ‘Where are you heading?’

  ‘Sutton Park.’

  ‘Well, you have a grand day for it,’ the doctor said, opening the car door for Linda to clamber laboriously inside. ‘I’ll be heading up to Sutton Town myself later to take this little minx out to lunch and then we’ll see what’s showing at Sutton’s new Odeon Cinema.’

  Linda gave a squeal of excitement for she hadn’t expected further treats and Jenny said to her, ‘Bet you’ll love that. It’s very posh by all accounts that cinema,’

  ‘It should be,’ the doctor said as he folded up Linda’s wheelchair to put it in the boot of his car. ‘It’s only been up a few years

  ‘You’re very kind,’ Jenny said.

  ‘Oh I was at a loose end anyway,’ the doctor answered easily but then he leaned forward and said quietly, ‘I don’t want to bring her back home too soon. My mother’s expecting her for tea.’

  ‘Right,’ said Jenny and saw some of her fellow parishioners streaming out from the church path looking askance at the young girl the O’Learys had taken in sitting in the doctor’s car, and himself putting the child’s wheelchair in the boot. Then there was young Jenny O’Leary herself, deep in conversation with a young man. That will keep them guessing over their Sunday dinner, Jenny thought, and to give them further food for discussion, she linked her arm through Bob’s.

  ‘He’s a nice bloke, that doctor,’ Bob said, as they began to walk towards the bus stop. ‘Did you know he went to Linda’s family funeral?’

  ‘Yes, he told me,’ Jenny said. ‘He seems to think a lot of Linda. Sort of feels responsible for her.’

  ‘He’s not the only one,’ Bob said with feeling. ‘If you ask me, Linda Lennox is a lucky kid.’

  ‘How can you say that?’

  ‘Oh come on, Jen, I know she’s had a bad time, but everyone’s bending over backwards to help her now,’ Bob said.

  Jenny was silent. In a way she could see what Bob was saying, but he hadn’t listened to Linda talking about her mother and little brothers like she had, and sensed the feeling between them. She knew she’d never be able to replace her family, however hard she’d tried. She was sure Linda would never totally get over her loss either, though she seemed to have come to terms with it now. If she, her family and Peter Sanders could help her, then she was glad to be able to do it.

  ‘What’s up?’ Bob said. ‘I haven’t upset you, have I?’

  ‘No, of course not, I was just thinking.’

  ‘Oh dear, that sounds ominous.’

  ‘Not really. It wasn’t anything important. I was just mulling things over in my head.’

  They’d reached the bus stop and stood waiting for the Midland Red bus to take them to Sutton Coldfield so that they could walk to the park. ‘Are you very hungry?’ Bob said. ‘The bus is due at half ten. What I mean is, can you wait to eat until we get to the park?’

  Jenny’s stomach growled with emptiness, but she said with a smile, ‘Of course. Anyway, I can hardly stand in the street with a sandwich in my fist. If that got back to my mother she’d die of shame.’

  ‘People don’t die of shame,’ Bob said dismissively. ‘But still, I should have thought about it. I could have called for you after the service at your home, and then you’d have had a chance to eat some breakfast.’

  ‘It’s not important, really it isn’t,’ Jenny said. ‘Peter Sanders didn’t know what to make of it though,’ she grinned. ‘He probably doesn’t know you have to fast in order to take Communion.’

  ‘Peter – is that the doctor’s name?’

  ‘Yes. He told me to call him that, and I suppose it is silly to call him “Doctor” all the time. It’s like him calling me Miss O’Leary.’

  ‘I didn’t think you knew him that well,’ Bob said sharply.

  Jenny could see the bus in the distance and she totally missed the odd note in Bob’s voice. ‘It’s coming,’ she said.

  ‘Do you know the fellow well?’ Bob asked again impatiently, ignoring Jenny’s reference to the bus.

  ‘Not well, I suppose,’ Jenny said easily. ‘I used to meet him at the hospital now and again, and he’s been to the house a couple of times. He’s been very helpful with transport, taking me to hospital for the concert on Christmas Eve and ferrying Linda back and forth and things like that.’

  ‘Do you like him?’ Bob asked.

  Jenny looked at Bob. ‘What a daft question. Of course I like him.’

  The bus arrived with a squeal of brakes and Jenny leapt on to the platform before Bob could assist her and made for the stairs. ‘I love riding on the top deck,’ she said. ‘Do you mind?’

  Bob shook his head and nothing more was said until they were sitting together on the upper deck, when he began, ‘You were telling me how much you like Peter Sanders.’

  ‘Was I?’ Jenny said. ‘Well, I do like him and I don’t understand why you’re being so funny about it. He’s taking me to the theatre on Friday, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘He’s what?’ Bob was staggered by the stab of jealousy he felt at Jenny’s words, and at an unreasonable hatred against the man he’d previously thought of as an ‘all right bloke’. He wondered what was the matter with him, and why it hurt suddenly that she should even consider going out with another person.

  At his exclamation heads had turned and Jenny said, ‘Ssh.’

  ‘I won’t ssh,’ Bob said. ‘What d’you mean, you’re going out with him?’

  Anger blazed in Bob’s eyes and Jenny was annoyed. He had no right to dictate to her. ‘Hang on a minute,’ she cried. ‘Why the hell shouldn’t I go out with him?’

  Bob knew Jenny was right. There was no reason at all why she shouldn’t go out with other people. He’d made no move to tell her she was special to him, and hadn’t really been aware she was until now. The thought of her seeing someone else chewed him up inside. He’d been afraid of commitment, he realized. Even the previous day during the wedding, he’d been unsure whether he loved Jenny O’Leary or not. What a bloody fool he’d been, when just to look at her made his whole body tingle, and when she touched him, or they danced together, he felt like he was on fire. Oh yes, now he knew he loved Jenny and the sooner he told her the better. He took her hand in his. It felt stiff and unyielding because she was still so cross with him. His heart thumped in sudden fear. Maybe she wasn’t ready for a declaration of love, maybe she didn’t feel the same way and he would frighten her off, but he couldn’t go on the way they were and pretend not to care, not if she wan
ted to see someone else.

  ‘Because’, he said roughly, ‘you’re my girl, and I don’t want you dating other men.’

  Jenny could only stare at him. What was he talking about? She couldn’t ask him either because the conductor was there jingling his leather bag and shouting, ‘Tickets please.’

  Jenny waited until the conductor had gone back down the stairs before she hissed, ‘What do you mean, I’m your girl?’

  ‘Well, you are – aren’t you?’ Bob said. ‘I mean, I’d like you to be.’

  ‘But you hardly know me.’

  ‘Of course I know you. You and your Grandmother O’Leary were all Anthony talked about, and when I saw your photograph I was very interested in learning all he had to say. Jenny, I’ve been in love with you for months, bloody fool that I am. I hardly knew myself, until now.’

  ‘You can’t have been,’ Jenny said. She was floored by Bob’s declaration, flattered certainly and a little suspicious.

  ‘Why can’t I?’

  Jenny stared at him, wondering if she should say that he couldn’t care for her or he’d have tried something on in the cinema, or given her a passionate kiss. Even the previous day at the wedding, although he’d held her close he hadn’t kissed her. But what would he think of her if she said any of this? He might think her fast, so she contented herself by saying, ‘You don’t really know me. You just know of me. How can you say I’m your girl after such a short acquaintance?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Bob said. ‘How does anyone know how these things happen? I just knew I was interested in the picture of Anthony O’Leary’s sister, from the moment I saw it tucked inside Anthony’s wallet. And, when I saw you standing in the doorway, the day I came to tell you about Anthony’s death and gave you his letter I … I knew I’d found someone special.’ And, he thought, I refused to recognize it. He’d treated her like many of his previous dates, and now he had to know how Jenny felt. ‘How do you feel about me, Jenny?’ he asked.

  How did she feel? Pleased to see him certainly, or far more than just pleased? Her stomach went into knots when she thought of him and her heart thudded almost painfully against her ribs. ‘I like you,’ she admitted at last.

  ‘Like me?’

  ‘I like you a lot,’ Jenny said.

  ‘You don’t love me just a little?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jenny said. ‘How do you know when you love someone?’

  ‘I can’t explain it,’ Bob said. ‘But I’m sure I love you.’

  ‘Oh Bob.’ Tears blurred Jenny’s eyes. Those were words she never thought she’d hear a man say to her. Surely such a handsome man couldn’t love her? Surely he was just playing with her feelings?

  ‘What is it?’ Bob said, seeing her woebegone expression.

  ‘Oh, Bob, please don’t just joke about this, or try to be kind. I can’t bear it,’ Jenny said.

  ‘Who’s being kind?’

  ‘You can’t mean you love me, not really?’

  ‘Why on earth not?’

  ‘Oh, look at me, for God’s sake!’ Jenny cried. ‘We’ve had this discussion before and I told you then to get your eyes tested. I’m not attractive to men! My mother and sister Geraldine told me so many times that, not only am I plain, I also put men off by my attitude. I’ve never had a boyfriend, Bob.’

  Bob laughed, and Jenny, almost in tears, was outraged. ‘Don’t laugh. It’s bad enough to look like I do, without being laughed at.’

  ‘Oh God Jenny, I’m not laughing at you,’ Bob said, trying to control his mirth. ‘I just can’t believe you see yourself like this.’

  ‘But I don’t look anything like Anthony, or the others,’ Jenny wailed.

  ‘Well, not everyone likes the same type of person, and a good job too,’ Bob said. ‘You appeal to me, Jenny. I think you’re beautiful and I told you that once before too. I want to be someone special in your life.’

  ‘Oh Bob, I wish I could believe that.’

  ‘If we were off this damned bus I’d prove it to you,’ Bob said, and Jenny leaned against him with a sigh. He cuddled her up close and Jenny would have been happy to stay like that all day.

  THIRTEEN

  Jenny hovered outside the house that evening, waiting for Peter Sanders to return with Linda, for she needed to tell him their date for Friday was off. After the time she’d spent in Sutton Park with Bob, she knew the feelings she had for him meant it wasn’t right for her to go out with another man.

  It had been a wonderful day and as they alighted from the bus they had walked down towards the park side by side as Bob explained about the park being so big people could drive through it and those not living in Sutton Coldfield had to pay to get in. She’d never heard of that before but she’d never seen anything on the scale of Sutton Park. Best of all was when they went through the gate, Bob caught up her hand and she felt a tingle running up through her arm. As promised he opened up the sandwiches and flask of tea almost as soon as they were in the park, and it wasn’t until Jenny had eaten her fill that he took her into the woods. There in the shade of the trees beside the little stream chuckling over its stony bed, he took her in his arms and kissed her, gently at first and then as she began to respond more firmly, but he didn’t try to prise her mouth open, feeling it might alarm her, for he had the feeling it was her first kiss.

  It was, and what he did was quite enough for Jenny and she felt delicious warmth stealing over her and sexual feelings that she didn’t recognize, and when she gave a low moan she was totally surprised. It gave Bob the impetus to hold her even tighter and it was all so marvellous she thought it was probably a sin to feel as she did then. And if it was, she decided she would deal with it later and she gave herself up to this wonderful man who had told her he loved her. When they eventually broke apart both were breathless and Jenny found herself wanting more. After that, whether it was strolling through the woods or walking around the large and quite magnificent lakes hand in hand, everything had an almost magical quality to it and Jenny couldn’t remember feeling so happy in years.

  Peter wasn’t surprised at Jenny’s news that there was someone special in her life. Not only had he seen the depth of feeling in Bob’s eyes that very morning, but Linda was quite keen to go on about it too. ‘Jenny doesn’t know,’ she said. ‘She’s flipping barmy at times, she is. Thinks she’s ugly, just ’cos she doesn’t look like the others.’

  That had been news to Peter and he wondered at it. Jenny wasn’t stupid: why couldn’t she see how striking she looked? he thought. True, she didn’t resemble her mother, but she had a beauty of her own, and her courage and determination belied her slight frame and made Peter want to look after her.

  He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen in love with Jenny, but now the feeling was getting between him and his sleep. It was hopeless, he recognized that. Jenny was not the sort of girl to give her heart lightly and it had been obvious that Bob Masters loved her and she certainly felt something for him. Peter knew she’d never viewed him as anything other than a friend.

  His mother would say that there were plenty more fish in the sea, but when you have the prize in your sights, no man likes to settle for second best. However Peter was not one to sulk over things he couldn’t have, though he drove home deep in thought.

  He was glad that at least Linda had had a nice day. She’d got on remarkably well with his mother Mabel, who’d told the child snippets of gossip about the neighbours, that Peter wasn’t sure had any basis in fact. However, after seeing Linda smile and hearing her laugh, he said nothing. He knew the visit to the grave might be upsetting and traumatic, and if she could have a bit of enjoyment first, he wasn’t going to stop her.

  And the visit to the grave was upsetting, although Linda explained how she knew the important part of her mother and brothers wasn’t buried under the mound of earth. Often, she’d said, it was a whiff of a certain scent or a snatch of a song that could still make her cry, yet seeing the grave brought the horror of it all to her mind again. She arranged the fl
owers Peter had cut for her in the pot his mother had found. The tears ran from her eyes as she said goodbye to her mother and George and little Harry all over again.

  Peter had watched from a respectful distance while a lump formed in his throat. He was mightily glad he was taking her out into town for a slap-up meal at the Royal Hotel and then to the Odeon cinema in that small market town which was showing The Thief of Baghdad. And so for Linda the day had ended splendidly after all. He’d been surprised he’d enjoyed it so much. He’d done it because he’d promised Linda, as a sort of duty, and he hadn’t expected to get much pleasure out of it, but he had.

  Mabel Sanders came upon her son that evening, sitting in the living room and staring into space, with quite a large whisky in a glass beside him, and a look on his face she could only describe as bereft. She didn’t need a crystal ball to know who’d put it there and it wasn’t the child with whom he’d spent the day.

  He’d never stopped talking about a certain Jenny O’Leary, ever since the rescue of Linda. She was sure he wasn’t aware how often he brought her name into the conversation, or how his eyes softened as he did.

  Mabel would have given her life for her son, but she knew she couldn’t help him through this. It was obvious, even from the little that Linda had said to her, that Jenny loved another, and from the look on Peter’s face she must have told him how things were. She sighed heavily, but didn’t go into the room. Instead she crossed to the stairs and slowly made her way to bed.

  Peter heard her. He was surprised she hadn’t come in to wish him good night, but very glad. He felt he couldn’t have taken her chatter that night without biting the head off her, and she didn’t deserve that.

  He sipped his whisky and remembered his mother saying that Norah O’Leary’s bad humour was something to do with some dreadful tragedy that had happened in Ireland. ‘Years ago, you understand – when The Troubles were at their height and terrible things were happening all the time,’ she’d said. ‘She blamed her husband for it, apparently. Of course, I don’t know all the details.’