Again he stared at her for some moments. ‘Then that is even better. May I ask you, Mrs Sutton, exactly what you are looking for here? A buyer who will pay well for any finished articles you wish to sell, or someone who will invest in promoting the clothing as an ongoing venture?’
All this clever talk. ‘I’m looking for someone who doesn’t think the two things are incompatible.’ She was meeting the astute gaze head on now, and then, as he threw his head back and gave a hearty bellow of laughter, she continued, ‘My husband is a miner, Mr Horwood. I’m not doing this simply because I think I can make a success of it but because I have to. I can’t afford - we can’t afford - to live on promises for the future. That doesn’t pay the rent or put food on the table. I don’t want to be forward but if you do like my clothes I would want a fair price for them, taking into account you have to make a profit too, of course.’
‘Of course.’ There was still a semblance of a smile on his face. ‘In London’s Regent Street a dress of wool lined with crêpe de chine would sell at something like fifty-five shillings, but this is Sunderland, not London. Would you be able to line your clothing, Mrs Sutton, where appropriate? Horwood and Sons cater for the discerning customer, and something like this dress and the top that goes with the cardigan would need to be lined.’
She nodded quickly.
‘And some clients would like an edging of satin or silk to enhance an otherwise plain item of clothing. You do have a sewing machine at home?’
Now she lied without blinking. ‘Of course.’
‘Then I think we can come to some arrangement which would suit us both. You work alone?’
Again she nodded.
‘That is not a problem at the present. If the line takes off we can reassess the situation.’ And then, as though coming to some decision, he said, ‘Can I offer you a cup of coffee, Mrs Sutton? And then we can thrash out terms and conditions.’
‘Thank you.’ Her head was whirling so much it was an effort to speak.
She left the shop some time later with a letter in her bag stating that Horwood & Sons were prepared to take her work and pay her handsomely for the privilege. She went straight to the Sunderland library to look up the word ‘panache’. ‘Flamboyant confidence of style or manner.’ She read it twice before laughing out loud. From the library she called in at Tot Sewell’s pawn shop and purchased a small sewing machine with some of the money she had received for the clothing she had left with Mr Horwood.
Carrie came back to the present as Matthew bounded to the threshold of the room, saying, ‘We’ve sorted some wood from the orange boxes in the yard but we need a bit more. Da said we’ll get it tomorrow if there’s time before everyone comes.’ He didn’t venture into the room, having learned long ago that thick leather boots and dirty hands didn’t mix with delicate material and paper patterns. ‘Mam, can I have a shive of bread and dripping to take up to bed?’
‘You can’t still be hungry, you’ve only just had your dinner.’
He grinned, all charm. ‘I am. Please, Mam?’
Carrie shook her head at him, smiling as she did so. ‘You’ve hollow legs, lad. Aye, go on, you know where it is, and just one piece mind. And then straight to sleep. We’ve a houseful tomorrow to celebrate you going into double numbers.’
‘Aye, I am, aren’t I?’ It clearly hadn’t struck him before. He stared at her and then said without any preamble, ‘Is Uncle Alec coming?’
Carrie picked up a pile of clothes, turning away as she said, ‘I’m not sure who’s coming but I wouldn’t be surprised,’ the familiar sickness churning her stomach at Alec’s name.
‘Uncle Alec said he was getting me something right grand for my birthday.’
Now Carrie really had to control her voice. ‘It’s Aunt Margaret and Uncle Alec who buy you things, not just Uncle Alec.’
There was silence for a moment. Matthew stared at his mother. Why did she always have that note in her voice, the scratchy note, when she talked about Uncle Alec? She didn’t have it with anyone else. He plucked up his courage and asked the question he’d been dying to ask for ages. ‘Do you like Uncle Alec, Mam?’
‘What?’ Carrie was surprised into turning to face her son and by the expression on his face she saw that Matthew had the bit firmly between his teeth. It was at moments like these, when a kind of hardness came across the boyish features, that he resembled Alec the most. But she was not going to be drawn into discussing Alec with Matthew so she said, ‘That’s too silly a question to deserve an answer. Uncle Alec is your da’s brother, isn’t he? Part of the family. Now wash your hands before you get yourself that bread and dripping and I’ll be up to say goodnight in a minute.’
‘All right, Mam.’ It was subdued but she pretended not to notice. ‘I like Uncle Alec.’
He shut the door before she could comment, leaving her staring across the room. She bit on her lip hard. Matthew, oh, Matthew. Where was this going to end?
It was another two hours before Carrie and David went to bed. Carrie did some baking and then she got David to help her reorganise the front room, but all the time her mind was dissecting the conversation with Matthew.
When she sat down heavily on the bed with a little sigh, David said, ‘You’re done in, lass, and no wonder. All this carry-on because of a birthday, as though you haven’t got enough to do.’
‘I wanted to do it.’
‘Who’s coming exactly?’
‘Lillian and Isaac, Renee and Walter, and Ada of course. And Mam called by to say they’re all coming, even Da.’
David nodded to this but said nothing. He had long since stopped hoping things would ever be right between him and Sandy. Sometimes he got the feeling that Carrie’s father would have liked to soften his attitude but Sandy was a proud man and any mellowing on his part would have meant losing face. True, Sandy answered him civilly enough these days but that was all, and David was in no doubt that this was only because he wanted access to his daughter and grandson. Both sets of grandparents worshipped the ground Matthew walked on; David had never thought to see his own mother so besotted with a child. Even with Alec he couldn’t remember her being so indulgent.
The thought of his brother now moved David to say, ‘Alec and Margaret, are they coming?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘They haven’t let you know?’ That wasn’t like Margaret. Alec’s wife was a stickler for doing things properly.
‘I never got round to inviting them.’ Carrie rose from the bed and walked across to the dressing table. She picked up her hairbrush and began to brush her hair, seated on the little stool with her back to him. ‘I dare say they’ll call by.’
‘You can bank on it. And what’s the betting they’ll have spent a fortune on Matt.’ David’s voice was resigned rather than annoyed and it suddenly irritated Carrie beyond measure. Probably because the conversation with Matthew was still burning in her mind, she turned abruptly.
‘Do you think it’s wise for them to come tomorrow? Margaret’s last miscarriage was only two weeks ago.’
David shrugged. ‘They wouldn’t come if they didn’t want to,’ he said, beginning to undress.
Wrong. ‘I’m not so sure Margaret wants to,’ Carrie said carefully, picking her words. ‘I think it hurts her to see Alec with Matthew and Veronica, and now Lillian’s expecting. Surely you can see that’s hard for her.’
‘That’s for them to work out together, lass.’ David stretched, hard muscle moving under his shirt. ‘You can’t do nowt about it.’
‘I don’t think they work things out together, David.’ She found she couldn’t leave it alone. ‘It’s more a case of Alec deciding what he wants to do and Margaret falling in line.’
‘That might be so, but it’s still something for them to deal with surely.’
David’s tone was so reasonable that for a moment Carrie wanted to throw the hairbrush at him. She was sure he still didn’t really like his brother although he would never admit it, not when Alec had got him f
eeling so sorry for both him and Margaret - and, more powerfully still perhaps, when he could relate to how Alec was feeling about wanting his own bairn. She had thought for some time that Alec was aware of how David felt, that he got some kind of enjoyment from the knowledge. It was all part of the game he was playing.
Not for the first time, Carrie thought, he’s dangerous, Alec Sutton. All that charm and attractiveness hid a heart that was as hard as nails. She knew he would never come out into the open and declare that Matthew was his, not while Mr Reed was alive anyway; he had too much to lose. But Alec could still hurt them all; in fact he was hurting them. If she was truthful, she knew David and Matthew would never be kindred spirits. Lots of fathers and sons weren’t, but she wasn’t imagining this deterioration in David’s relationship with her son since Alec had made it his business to see more of Matthew.
She kept her eyes on David as she said, ‘I think it would be better all round if we make it clear we don’t expect to see Alec and Margaret so often.’
Startled brown eyes shot up to meet unswerving blue.
‘They have lots of fancy friends and move in very different circles to us; it’s not as if they’re going to sit at home twiddling their thumbs. And all these presents for’ - she had been about to say Matthew, but changed it to - ‘Veronica and Matthew, I want them to stop, for Matthew at least. I don’t like it, David. It makes me . . . uncomfortable. If they do have a baby we’d never be able to reciprocate.’
David had stopped undressing and was sitting with one leg in his trousers and the other out. ‘What’s brought this on, lass?’ he said quietly, his eyes on her tense face.
‘Brought what on?’ She turned her head away to avoid his gaze. The tender concern in his deep brown eyes would prove her downfall one day, she thought painfully. She would blurt out more than she intended and in the process hurt David terribly. As the years had passed she had come to understand that David would be able to accept almost anyone as Matthew’s father, but not Alec. And she knew this applied more, not less, since Alec had made his grand overture and the brothers had become friendly.
‘This concern for Margaret,’ David answered. He kicked off his trousers and pulled on his pyjama bottoms, and then came over to where she sat. He took the hairbrush from her, placed it on the dressing table, and then knelt in front of her, taking her fingers in his warm hands. ‘Look, lass, it’s dreadful the way things have turned out and I feel bad for her, course I do, like everyone else, but you can’t take her problems on your shoulders.’
Carrie blinked. ‘No, I suppose not.’ She felt as though he was heaping coals of fire over her head. But she did feel deeply for Margaret when Alec was romping about with Matthew and Veronica, she told herself silently by way of exoneration. In fact, sometimes it had crossed her mind that Alec was being deliberately cruel to his wife when he made a fuss of the two children, punishing Margaret for being unable to present him with bairns of their own. ‘But I would still rather we didn’t see them so much.’
He pulled her to her feet and took her in his arms. Stroking her hair he said softly, ‘If that’s what you want, I’ll have a word with Alec. I don’t want to upset Margaret any more than you do, love.’ He kissed her brow, his body hardening against hers and telling her of his need.
‘I know you don’t.’ David didn’t have an unkind bone in his body. ‘If they just came occasionally rather than every Sunday it’d be better. I don’t want the one day you don’t work tied up with visitors all the time.’
His lips left her skin. ‘There’s more than one day in a week I don’t work, lass,’ he said bitterly.
Carrie said quickly, ‘Oh, David, I didn’t mean - I wasn’t rubbing it in.’
‘I know, I know.’
But the moment had gone sour and they both knew it.
Long after David had fallen asleep, Carrie lay wide-eyed in the darkness. She felt drained and she was dreading the next day.
David stirred once or twice, muttering something that sounded like her name and increasing her feeling of despair. He was born to have bairns of his own so why hadn’t it happened? She just didn’t understand it. Once or twice when she had been late her hopes had soared, only to plummet again within a day or so when she discovered she wasn’t pregnant. There were folk like David’s mam and da who had never really got on from the moment they were wed and yet could churn out babies like clockwork. She would give anything to be able to say to him, ‘You’re going to be a da.’ She so wanted David’s baby.
She twisted restlessly in the bed, her heart sore. She knew David’s mam thought both she and Renee had decided to have just the one bairn because of their respective jobs. Olive had all but challenged her on it more than once, only backing down when she’d given her short shrift. Perhaps her own parents thought the same, but they would never interfere by saying anything. And it was ironic that in Renee’s case, Olive was probably spot on. Certainly Walter had hinted to David more than once that things weren’t right in the bedroom. But things were grand between her and David in that way, so why, why hadn’t it happened?
She was no nearer an answer when she drifted off into a troubled sleep just as it was growing light.
Chapter Twelve
‘It’s good of you, man, don’t get me wrong, but I’d have preferred you to clear it with me before you bought him the bike. His mam and me had told him he’d got to wait till he was older, that’s the thing.’
‘David, I had no idea.’
No idea. Carrie stood just outside her front door listening to David and Alec’s low voices beside her as she waved to Matthew, who for the umpteenth time had just fallen off the brand new bicycle Alec had given him for his birthday. No idea, her hat. He’d planned this, probably for some time, and thinking back to last night she felt Matthew had had a jolly good idea what the ‘grand’ present was going to be too.
‘Margaret and I just had this brainwave of getting a bike for Veronica and David’s next birthdays.’ Alec’s voice went still lower as he said, ‘I think it was because of the last miss, you know? She’s beginning to accept she’ll never have a bairn and this is her way of enjoying yours and Walter’s, I suppose.’
‘The bike was Margaret’s idea then?’ It was rare Carrie spoke to Alec directly and now, as she turned and met his eyes, hers icy blue, she saw he was taken aback.
He rallied immediately, smiling as he replied, ‘I don’t actually remember now.’
‘Because that was what it sounded like,’ she said, still unsmiling.
‘Like I said, Carrie. I don’t remember.’
Aye, and there were snowballs in hell.
‘It doesn’t matter now anyway,’ David said hurriedly. ‘And it’s a beauty, Alec, but next time you’re thinking of getting him a present as dear as that--’
‘I’ll check with you first,’ Alec finished smoothly.
‘I’m getting the hang of it now, Mam, aren’t I!’ Matthew had no skin left on his knees or his elbows, but his face was one wide grin as he limped towards Carrie, pushing the bicycle. ‘It’s canny.’
Carrie forced a smile. The bike was smooth and sleek and fancy, the gears, saddle and brakes the latest design. The paintwork was blue with silver lines and squiggles, and even the leather saddlebag looked as though it had cost a small fortune. Her da, along with Ned, Walter, Billy and the twins, were all standing at strategic points down the street, the idea being that the men were going to catch Matthew before he fell off the bike. None of them had succeeded so far. With this in mind, Carrie said, ‘You’re doing very well but don’t you think it’s time to have tea? Your grandas look as though their tongues are hanging out.’
‘Aw, Mam, can’t I stay out a bit longer? Veronica hasn’t had her turn yet anyway.’
‘You go in, lass, and start the ball rolling. We’ll be in shortly.’ David looked at her and smiled, his eyes saying, let it be for the minute, lass. Let’s just get through the day.
‘Just ten minutes then.’ Carrie turned and stepped
into the hall, and saw Renee at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Shut the door, lass.’ Renee waved at the open front door and whispered, ‘I want a word.’
‘What is it?’
All the other women were talking in the kitchen. Renee took her sister’s arm and drew her into the front room which was set out ready for the visitors. She closed the door behind them. ‘If Walter mentions anything to you about me being bad Thursday afternoon, just say something like you’re glad to see me back to meself today. All right?’
The Most Precious Thing Page 19
