by Lesley Eames
Mrs Arleigh glared at him.
‘I’ve just visited Sidney Rabley,’ Grace told her. ‘He wasn’t surprised to hear about his son.’
‘You’ve been bullying a sick man?’
‘No, and I’ve no wish to sully the Rabley name. If I could just have a reference, I’d—’
‘A reference? Oh, no,’ Mrs Arleigh said. ‘Unless Victor Rabley’s guilt is established in a court of law, I won’t alter my original suspicion. You or one your friends took the necklace, Miss Lavenham.’
‘Doctor Arleigh?’ Grace asked, but his gaze dropped to the pavement.
‘Good day,’ Mrs Arleigh said pointedly.
‘I’ll be in touch when Victor Rabley is in prison,’ Grace told her, determined to have the last word, but as she walked away a feeling close to despair took its place.
Why hadn’t she asked Doctor Arleigh for a reference another time? She’d have to shout her innocence from the rooftops if she were to stand a chance of getting work now. It wouldn’t help Mr Rabley’s health to be dragged into a scandal, but it wasn’t helping Gran’s health to be shivering and almost starving in Cutler’s Row.
At least Grace could do something about protecting Ruth. She went to the police station and told Ruth’s story to an officer. Ruth had sent her Vic’s threatening note so she produced it as evidence.
‘He might be long gone from the address on this note,’ the officer told her, ‘but it’s a start. Leave it with us, Miss.’
It began to rain as Grace was walking home. She ran to the shelter of a tree, but cold drips trickled through the leaves and icy water seeped through the newspaper in her shoe. She shivered wretchedly. It was foolish to be overset by bad weather even if it was cold for the time of year, but the tears that joined the rain coursing down her cheeks weren’t really about the rain. They were about poverty, unemployment, loneliness, heartache…
But Grace had to rally for Gran’s sake. Walking on, she tried to formulate a plan of action. It might be months before they caught Vic. If they caught him at all. In the meantime, Grace would simply have to be bold about blaming him for the theft when she approached potential employers. There was no guarantee she’d be believed but—
An awful thought struck her. Grace had reported Victor to the police to make Ruth safe by putting him behind bars. But what if her actions had the opposite effect? What if he heard the police were after him and his rage turned an idle threat into a wrathful wish to avenge himself?
Grace fought off a dreadful feeling of foreboding. This was what happened when you starved yourself. Your imagination ran riot. Grace could afford this weakness of mind and body even less than she could afford food. She needed to feed her fighting spirit if she were to be of use to Gran.
There was butcher’s shop ahead. As Grace looked in the window, the butcher came to the door.
‘There’s some nice steak there.’
‘How much for the mutton?’ It was a small and sorry piece.
‘I’ll knock that down to a shilling, seeing as it’s the end of the day.’
‘Do you really think you’ll have other customers in this weather? I’ll give you sixpence.’
‘All right, sixpence. But you’re robbing me.’
Carrying the pathetic package home, Grace decided to rest tonight and begin fighting against this lowness tomorrow. Might the police give her a note confirming they were looking for Vic? Potential employers were more likely to believe in her innocence if she had something official to show them, even though Vic hadn’t yet been found guilty in a court of law. She’d return to the police station in the morning and ask. She’d also go the library to look at the Situations Vacant columns in the Ruston and Northampton newspapers, and call on the vicar to ask if he knew anyone who might keep an eye on Gran while Grace was working.
She reached the steps that led up to the flat and paused as she heard singing. Gran’s voice. Unsteady now, but still sweet. Gran must be having a sing-song with Mattie who was leaving tomorrow. Grace smiled but tears pricked her eyes afresh as she was overwhelmed by sorrow for her inability to provide for Gran in the way she deserved.
Then Grace heard something else that swept all other thoughts away. It was another voice. A rich, male voice she’d heard before.
Fifty-two
Desperate for an excuse to stay out of a conversation that was all about weddings, Jenny reached for the Silver Ladies diary.
They were all there: Ruth, Lydia, Johnnie and Harry.
‘I’m getting married in my overalls,’ Lydia announced.
Appalled, Ruth appealed to Harry. ‘I’m sure you want Lydia to wear a dress.’
‘I don’t care if she wears a sack as long as she marries me,’ Harry said.
‘You’ll regret it if you don’t wear a dress,’ Ruth told Lydia.
‘Shan’t.’
‘What do you think, Johnnie? Jenny’s going to wear a dress, isn’t she?’
‘I expect so, but both girls will look beautiful whatever they wear.’
Jenny heard a chair creak as Johnnie got up and came over. He kissed the top of her head. ‘Found a good date for our honeymoon?’
She shouldn’t have picked up the diary after all. ‘Not yet.’
‘We might just get married and go on honeymoon later,’ Harry said, pulling Lydia onto his lap.
Slapping him, Lydia fought her way back to her feet. ‘Stop playing the fool, Harry.’
‘I’m being romantic.’
‘You’re being an idiot.’
Harry and Lydia abused each other all the time but radiated happiness.
Johnnie leaned closer. ‘I thought we might spend our honeymoon in Paris.’
Jenny swallowed. ‘My goodness.’
‘It’s the city of love and there’s so much to see. The Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the river Seine…’
Back in Ruston, people of Jenny’s class married in their Sunday best and celebrated at home with potted meat sandwiches and sponge cake. If they honeymooned at all, they’d save a few shillings a week towards five or six days in a seaside boarding house. Jenny should be delirious with joy at the prospect of a honeymoon in a chic Parisian hotel. Instead she wanted to weep.
‘Grace might come back and help while we’re on our honeymoons,’ Harry suggested. ‘If she isn’t working by then.’
‘Good idea,’ Johnnie said. ‘Have you heard any more from Grace, angel?’
‘Not since the telephone call.’
It had been the briefest of phone calls. Grace had reported her visits to Mr Rabley and the police, then asked Jenny to urge Ruth to take care.
‘I will,’ Jenny had promised. ‘But you sound agitated, Grace. Are you all right?’
‘I haven’t time to talk now,’ Grace had said. ‘I’ll be in touch again soon.’
But that had been almost forty-eight hours ago.
‘I hate to think of Grace struggling,’ Johnnie said. ‘I know she’s too proud to accept a gift of money, but do you think she might accept a loan?’
How thoughtful he was. Surely the admiration and care Jenny felt for Johnnie meant more than the tempestuous attraction she felt for Hux?
To be fair to Hux, he was doing nothing to fan the flames of that fiery excitement. He was keeping a gentlemanly distance since they’d talked at Fairfax Park. Only once had he called at Silver Ladies to collect Lydia, but he’d waited in the mews and it had been Jenny’s bad luck that she’d found him there on returning from the shops.
All she needed to do was to bide her time. Once Lydia married and moved out of Shepherds Mews, Jenny’s path would rarely cross with Hux’s. Perhaps one day they’d even smile about the silly crush they’d had on each other.
A sudden knock sounded on the downstairs door and there was the usual rush to tidy the office in case the visitor was a customer. When all was in order, Jenny went down to open the door.
‘Do you have any job vacancies?’ the visitor asked, then laughed deliciously.
‘Grace!’ Jenn
y hugged her. ‘It’s so good to see you!’
‘It’s wonderful to see you too.’
They drew back to inspect each other. ‘You look wonderful,’ Jenny said, because Grace was sparkling.
‘You’ve lost weight. You must be missing my stews. Are Lydia and Ruth here?’
‘Harry and Johnnie too.’
‘Perfect.’
Running up to the office, Grace was greeted with more shrieks and hugs.
‘Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?’ Ruth asked.
‘I wanted to surprise you.’
‘Are you visiting before you start a wonderful new job?’ Jenny asked.
‘I’m hoping to take up my old job. If you’ll have me?’
The cries of delight could have left Grace in no doubt that they would.
‘But how is it possible?’ Jenny wanted to know. ‘What about your gran?’
‘She’s in London too. We’re both going to live here. Not here at Silver Ladies exactly. This place isn’t suitable for Gran, though I hope I can stay while the banns are read.’
‘Banns? Wedding banns?’
‘Mmm.’ Grace’s eyes danced merrily. ‘I’m engaged to be married.’
The noise level erupted again.
‘Shush!’ Grace cried. ‘You’ll have the neighbours complaining. I suppose you want to know who I’m marrying.’
‘Owen Tedris,’ Lydia said smugly.
Jenny’s gaze flew to Lydia’s face. Jenny had long known that Owen and Grace had a regard for each other, but she’d never guessed that it went deeper than that.
‘Owen and I have had a few chats recently,’ Lydia explained. ‘Somehow the conversation had a way of getting onto Grace. It got me thinking, so I didn’t see any harm in giving his protective instincts a nudge by telling him she’d lost her job and was living in a slum. I got the impression there’d been some sort of awkwardness too, so I wondered if Grace might have thought Owen was married as she mentioned a Mrs Tedris once. I didn’t see any harm in letting him know that too.’ Lydia was grinning, enjoying her role of least likely match-maker in the world.
Jenny wished she’d been more alert to Grace’s feelings, but the important thing was that Grace had found happiness anyway.
‘He came to see me in Ruston,’ Grace explained.
‘He’s a true romantic,’ Johnnie said, and his smile said he’d go the ends of the earth in search of Jenny.
If only Jenny could live up to his faith in her!
‘He won Gran over in a heartbeat,’ Grace went on, ‘and I’m very fond of him. More than fond, actually.’
No one could doubt it.
‘Anyway, Gran’s staying with Owen. His cousin, Ifor, works in the business and his family are staying with Owen too. They’re moving into their own house soon, but until then Bethan – Ifor’s wife – will help to keep an eye on Gran. Enough of me, though. Congratulations, Lydia. You too, Harry. I’m thrilled for you both.’
Lydia looked suddenly self-conscious. ‘You must have been surprised to hear I was getting married, but you couldn’t have been half as surprised as me.’
‘Show her your ring,’ Johnnie prompted.
Lydia lifted the chain around her neck and showed the diamond solitaire. ‘I keep it on a chain because it fell into a jug of dirty motor oil when it was on my finger. Harry had to take it back to the shop to get it cleaned.’
Grace laughed. ‘And how are you, Ruth?’
‘Fine. No sign of Vic Rabley.’
Another knock sounded downstairs. ‘That’ll be Owen,’ Grace said, and she ran down to let him in.
All was clearly right in Owen’s world. He looked deeply satisfied with life, and when he put an arm around Grace, his manner was proud rather than proprietorial. How well suited they were: two people who loved each other and respected each other’s talents too. Owen wouldn’t object to a working wife. On the contrary, he’d delight in Grace’s cleverness. Jenny was happy for both of them.
‘First thing tomorrow I’ll buy a ring,’ Owen said. ‘I should have got one before I hightailed it to Ruston, but it felt more urgent to get Grace away from that awful place.’
‘We should celebrate,’ Harry said. ‘A party for all of our engagements.’
‘We could hold it here in the office,’ Grace agreed.
‘It’s a wonderful idea,’ Johnnie said.
Jenny knew she was blessed to have so much that was good in her life but couldn’t help wanting to weep again.
They fixed on Sunday evening. Owen’s family was invited along with Harry’s godmother and other friends. Inevitably, Hux was amongst them.
Jenny tried to follow Ruth’s example of courage, for Ruth was valiant in disguising her fear and also her loneliness as the only one left unattached. She couldn’t have been more helpful with the arrangements for the party, and only in little ways did her true feelings show – in frequent trips to the window to look down on the mews, in covert glances at people who passed them in the street and in occasional moments when, unaware that anyone was watching, her smile slipped.
Not even when a policeman called at Shepherds Mews to report that Vic had been apprehended only to break free again did Ruth’s courage falter.
‘I’m afraid the gentleman spoke rather intemperately,’ the policeman said. ‘I won’t repeat his words in front of young ladies, but he wasn’t pleased that you’d set the law on him.’
‘We’ll be careful,’ Ruth told him, white-faced but steady.
Grace saw the officer out, then returned looking thoughtful. ‘I suggest we keep to public places as far as possible and avoid going out alone at night. Especially you, Ruth.’
‘Agreed,’ Ruth said. ‘But let’s not think of Vic. Let’s talk about the party. What are we going to eat?’
The following day Grace told Jenny more about Owen’s surprise appearance in Ruston. ‘When I heard his voice… Saw him… I felt I’d dropped out of our universe and woken in another.’
‘You didn’t know he loved you?’
‘I knew he liked me. I liked him. But Lydia was right. I thought he was married to Bethan, and when I drew back from his attentions, Owen assumed they were unwelcome. After Lydia laid it on thick about the awful time I was having, he said it drove him so wild he had to help, whether I’d have him for a husband or not.’
‘Thank goodness he did,’ Jenny said.
‘I never thought I’d marry,’ Grace confided. ‘Perhaps it was because my parents died young and then Gran’s health failed, but I always thought I had to gather up responsibilities instead. With Owen I’ve learned to let go a little. To trust. It doesn’t mean surrendering who I am. We love each other and we’re proud of each other too.’ Grace paused then added, ‘I never thought kissing would be so blissful either!’
She laughed and Jenny forced a smile in return.
Hux made Jenny feel kissing would be blissful but only because Johnnie had shown her that a man could treat a woman with consideration. How shabby she’d be if she used Johnnie as a mere stepping stone to Hux. She had to put Johnnie first.
Throwing herself into the party preparations, Jenny helped to make cakes and sandwiches. Johnnie, Harry and Owen brought champagne, along with lemonade, sherry and beer.
On the evening of the party, they moved the office furniture to the sides of the room and brought more chairs from Owen’s house, including two ancient deckchairs. Harry brought a gramophone with a selection of records so they could dance.
He was dancing with Grace when his godmother arrived with a small woman who looked around the room and began saying, ‘My word,’ to no one in particular.
Lady Violet eyed the deckchairs. ‘I hope you’re not expecting us to sit on those.’
‘We’ve reserved the sofa especially for you,’ Harry told her. ‘Now quit looking severe and have a glass of champagne. You too, Miss Barnes.’
The crony blinked and said, ‘My word.’
Owen drove Grace’s gran along the mews, carried her ups
tairs to a waiting armchair and brought her sherry. ‘That’ll warm you,’ he winked.
Old Mrs Lavenham’s face pinked up prettily. How well she was looking!
Other guests arrived, Sam and Hux amongst them. Jenny greeted them politely, then moved away, though her attraction to Hux pulsed as strongly as ever.
As well as dancing, there was singing as this was a tradition in Owen’s family. Watching their shining faces, Jenny knew that, for the others, the party couldn’t have been bettered. She could only pretend to be happy.
Johnnie appeared content to sit and watch the merriment, so she was surprised when he asked her to dance. His leg was only a little stiff now and he smiled as they danced to one of Harry’s slower records. ‘You’re an amazing girl, Jenny Mallory.’
Blinking back tears, Jenny assured him that he was wonderful too.
‘Let’s go outside,’ he said.
He picked up his coat and led her down to the mews. Jenny steeled herself to be taken into his arms but instead he put his coat on. His car was behind him on the cobbles and something about it suddenly struck her as odd. It had been packed full of boxes when he’d driven it over earlier and she’d assumed they contained drinks for the party. But most of the boxes were still there.
She felt a prickle of apprehension. ‘Johnnie?’
‘I’m leaving, angel. And I’m not coming back.’
‘Not—’
‘I’m setting you free. Releasing you.’
Releasing her? Surely he couldn’t mean… ‘Johnnie, no! I don’t want—’
‘Yes, you do.’ He reached up and stroked her cheek. ’Bless you for trying to love me, Jenny. I’ve seen how hard you’ve tried.’
‘I do love you!’
‘Yes. But there are all sorts of love and what you feel for me isn’t the sort of love marriages are built on.’
Jenny’s heart pumped wildly. Her throat felt scalded. ‘Johnnie, please! Don’t talk like this. I can’t bear it.’
‘You can, because you know it’s the truth. You’ve been wonderful. A fairy princess with a heart of gold. But the handsome prince you need isn’t me. It’s a tall American who adores you as much as you adore him.’
