by Rosie Clarke
‘Yes, Mrs Gillows.’ He gave me an apologetic look. ‘I’m sorry about this will. I tried very hard to persuade him against making it, but Mr Robinson refused to accept my advice.’
‘My father never listened to anyone,’ I replied and we shook hands. ‘Thank you for coming, sir.’
‘If there is anything I can do?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Not for the moment.’
‘The money in the bank?’
‘Leave it there for the moment. I shall let you know if I need it.’
‘Very wise. Very wise.’
I smiled and opened the door for him.
After he had gone, I stood alone in the shop thinking for a few minutes. Father had left me his money. I was sure there was considerably more than the three hundred in the bank – and I believed I knew what he had done with it. All I had to do was find it …
When I returned to the parlour upstairs, it was obvious that a quarrel had been going on between my mother and Richard.
‘Harold had no right to leave it all to you,’ she was saying furiously. ‘It should have been mine – or Emma’s.’
‘He promised me the lot,’ Richard said, glaring at us all. ‘House, business – and the money. Said he didn’t trust you or Emma to look after it. He thought it would be better in my hands.’
‘I’ll take you to court.’
‘Don’t be a fool, Greta!’ Gran spoke sharply. ‘You’ll lose what little bit you’ve got. The only ones to benefit will be the lawyers. You’re no worse off than you were – you’ll have to make the best of it.’
‘You don’t know what I’ve had to put up with all these years,’ Mother said bitterly. ‘What I’ve done—’
‘What are you talking about, Mum?’ I said quickly. ‘You’ve done your duty, nothing more or less – as we both have. We both knew Father was capable of doing this. There’s no point in making a fuss. Gran’s right, we’re no worse off than we were.’
Mother looked as if she wanted to protest, but, seeing the warning look in my eyes, shut her mouth. She got up and walked away, going into her bedroom and locking the door.
‘Well, I’ll be off then,’ Gran said. She stood up a little stiffly, as if the action was painful to her, and came to kiss my cheek, her voice no more than a whisper against my ear. ‘Chin up, love. You’ll maybe find a way of working things out. It might not be as bad as you think just now – Harold was always a bit of a mystery.’
I kissed her back, nodding but saying nothing. I knew that she had her own ideas about my father’s money, but wasn’t going to say anything in Richard’s hearing.
‘I’ll come and see you as soon as I can,’ I promised. ‘I’ll have to see about getting another assistant – part time, anyway.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Richard muttered behind me. ‘Assistants cost money.’
I went downstairs with Gran. ‘Your father had more than that put by,’ she said, ‘but you know that, don’t you?’
‘He told me there was something,’ I agreed, ‘he just didn’t say what or where.’
‘That’s typical of Harold Robinson,’ she said and chortled. ‘If you find it, you’d best keep it to yourself, love.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘I know Richard Gillows’ sort,’ Gran said. ‘He’s got a taste for the drink. While he had to look after his money it wasn’t too bad, but now … you’d best keep a cool head on your shoulders, lass. You can’t deny him the profits from the shop – and it would cause trouble if you tried – but don’t let him get his hands on yours.’
‘No, I shan’t,’ I promised her. ‘And I shall come to visit you. If Richard won’t let me take on a new assistant, I’ll leave Ben on his own for an hour or so. I don’t intend to be a prisoner again. I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime.’
‘If he causes you too much trouble, let me know,’ Gran said. ‘I could talk sense into Harold – and I dare say that husband of yours is much the same.’
I kissed her goodbye, but as I walked upstairs, I thought she was wrong. My father had given her her way for the sake of peace – arguments in the shop were bad for business – but Richard wouldn’t care about that. As long as there was money in the till when he wanted it, he would be reasonable, but he wouldn’t stand for anyone telling him what to do.
Richard was waiting for me when I got back to the parlour. One look at his face told me he was angry about Father’s will.
‘You need not imagine I’ll be ruled by you,’ Richard said, eyes glinting with temper. ‘Your father made a bargain with me – my name for your bastard child. He thinks he’s cheated me of my rights, but I won’t be bested by him or you.’
‘Your rights?’ I raised my eyebrows at him. ‘If anyone has reason to complain of being cheated, it’s my mother or me. Had I known the truth – that he made such a bargain with you – I would never have married you. You lied to me, Richard – you cheated me. If you feel my father welshed on your bargain, I’ll give you a divorce.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I’ll just bet you would! Well, you won’t get rid of me that easily. I’m going to stay here and take what belongs to me. I’ll never divorce you. And you had better not try to cheat me, Emma.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it. The profits from the shop are yours. Just leave me enough to pay the bills.’
‘You’ve got money in the bank for that.’
‘Oh, no, Richard. That’s mine. It’s going to stay with Mr Smythe until I want it.’ I raised my head, looking straight at him. ‘I might use it to leave you. You can run the shop as you want then.’
‘You think I couldn’t?’
He took a step towards me, drew his hand back and hit me so hard I fell against the sofa. My ears were ringing and my eyes stung with the tears I was too proud to shed.
‘Leave here, and I’ll throw your mother out. She won’t get a penny from me once you’ve gone.’
‘You can’t do that,’ I said. ‘Besides, I can take her with me.’
‘You’ll do as you’re told – or I’ll beat that bastard out of you. You’re my wife and you’ll stay here whether you like it or not.’ He slapped me again, though not as hard as the first time. ‘I’m going out.’
I sat down as he left the room, my throat tight with emotion, my hands over my face as I fought for calm.
‘He’s worse than Harold ever knew how to be.’
I looked up as I heard Mother’s voice. She came and sat next to me, her fingers touching the red marks on my face.
‘I’m sorry, Emma. This is my fault. I would never have done it if I’d thought it would turn out this way.’
‘Done what, Mum?’
She sighed and shook her head. ‘Agreed to the marriage. You should have listened to Gran, Emma. I thought things would be better when Harold was dead, but they’re worse.’
‘It doesn’t have to be worse,’ I said. ‘We’ve got the money Father left me. We could go away …’
‘And leave everything for Richard? Are you going to sign away your inheritance? That’s the only way he would leave you in peace – if you signed for him to sell this place. He’ll never let you divorce him.’
‘It might be worth it, Mum. I’ve got a few pounds put by as well as Father’s money. We could manage until I’m fit to work.’
She sighed. ‘I’ll get a cold flannel for your face. Perhaps we should stick it out for a while – until the baby is born. See if anything turns up. Harold had more money than that – it must be somewhere.’
‘He tried to tell me something before he died,’ I said. ‘He said there was money for me, but he didn’t say where.’
Her eyes gleamed with excitement. ‘I knew it. Find it, Emma, and then we’ll go. Let Richard have the shop.’
‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ I replied. ‘Father wouldn’t have hidden anything where you might find it. I think it must be downstairs – probably in the stockroom.’
‘Shall we start looking now – while Richard’s out?’
‘We’ll have to be careful. If he thinks something is going on he will be suspicious. If he knew we’d found something, he’d take it from us if he could.’
‘I’ll go through Harold’s things again,’ she said. ‘I’ve already looked, but I might find something. What do you think he has hidden?’
‘Gold sovereigns,’ I said, and nodded. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s what he did with the money. I found one shoved in a drawer in the stockroom and told Father. He said it had been given to him. After he was well enough to come down for a few days, I looked and it had disappeared. He had hidden it somewhere.’
‘It’s just what he would have done. He might have given it to you for looking after him.’
‘I didn’t want it, Mum. If Richard didn’t drink so much …’ I sighed. ‘I wouldn’t have minded the shop being his if he were different. But drinking changes him, makes him violent.’
Why was I trying to convince myself? My marriage had never stood a chance. And if I were honest, I didn’t want it to – not any more.
‘He wasn’t drunk when he did this,’ she said quietly and touched my cheek. ‘We’ll give it until the spring, Emma – and then we’ll go, whether you find those sovereigns or not.’
‘Richard’s mother was a hard woman,’ Gran said as we sat over tea several weeks later. ‘She drove her husband to drink, and when he lost his job because of it, she never let him forget what a worthless wretch he was. I reckon Richard saw enough petticoat rule when he was a lad to last him a lifetime. Happen that’s why he won’t stand for any lip from you.’
‘As long as he gets his own way, he’s not violent,’ I said. ‘If I try to tell him he can’t keep taking money from the shop without running out of stock, he loses his temper. People have already started to ask for things we need to reorder – but what can I do?’
‘Don’t put your own money into it,’ she warned. ‘You’ll not gain by it, Emma.’
‘I know.’ I thought of the argument with Richard the previous evening, when he had taken every penny from the till. ‘I make him give me some of the change back – but it will run out one of these days.’
‘Don’t you go short,’ Gran said. ‘If you need a few bob to keep you going, I’ve got my savings.’
‘As if I would take your money!’ I sighed. ‘Oh, Gran, you know I wouldn’t. I’m only having a moan.’
‘I’ll not be needing money for much longer,’ she said. ‘After I’ve gone, you’ll find my bits in a biscuit tin under my bed. I’ll tell you now. It’s all for you, Emma. There’s not much, but it’s yours.’
‘Oh, Gran, don’t! I would much rather have you.’
She smiled at me. ‘Aye, lass, I know it – but I know I haven’t got long. I’m hoping to see your little one born afore I go.’
‘Of course you will, you daft thing! Only another two months to go,’ I said, patting my bulge. ‘I sometimes think I shall be glad when it’s over.’
‘It’s always difficult at this stage, but when you’ve your son in your arms, you’ll forget how uncomfortable it was.’
‘My son?’ I quizzed her with my eyes. ‘Am I carrying a boy?’
‘I reckon it’s a boy,’ she said. ‘But we’ll see.’
She wouldn’t let me wash the tea things before I left. It was the beginning of January 1939; the weather was bitterly cold and the sky quite dark by the time I reached the High Street that afternoon. I lingered outside Mrs Henty’s window and she beckoned me inside.
‘I got some pretty smocks in this morning, Emma. I thought you might like one?’
I had been managing by wearing dresses my mother had let out at the seams, but one of the smocks was a very pretty green print, and I thought it would be nice to wear in the shop – cover my bulge a bit.
‘How much is this one?’
‘Sixteen shillings – but I’ll let you have it for twelve.’
‘I think I will have it,’ I said. ‘I’ll bring the money in tomorrow or the next day. Will you keep it for me until then?’
‘You take it with you,’ she said. ‘I know I can trust you. Besides, I may not be here much longer.’
‘Not here?’ I was surprised. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m thinking of selling up.’
‘You’re not! Please don’t do that. I should miss coming here. It wouldn’t be the same without you, Mrs Henty.’
‘I might not have a choice,’ she said. ‘My landlord wants to sell the premises, and I haven’t got the five hundred pounds he’s asking. It would probably be more if I didn’t have a clause in my lease … but it might as well be thousands.’
‘Five hundred pounds …’ I looked round the showroom. It was small and crowded with rails and glass cabinets, but I knew she did a reasonable trade. ‘It doesn’t sound outrageous. And you live over the top, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ She sighed and looked worried. ‘That’s what makes it so awkward. I suppose I shall have to move – but I don’t want to borrow from the bank.’
‘Supposing I lent you the money?’ I spoke impulsively, without considering. ‘You could pay me back so much a month, couldn’t you?’
‘I could pay you five pounds a month – which is what I’ve been paying in rent.’ She looked at me hesitantly. ‘Or we could be partners, Emma. I’d carry on the same as always, but instead of paying you back, we’d share the profits.’
The idea appealed to me. My money would be safer in property. Richard had already hinted that I should ask Mr Smythe to release it – and I knew what would happen then.
‘How much would that be?’
‘It depends – from ten to fifteen pounds a month perhaps,’ she said, looking excited. ‘It brings in less at the moment, allowing for expenditure – but there would be no rent to pay.’
I could have earned almost as much by renting the shop back to her, but it would be a steady income and I thought I would enjoy helping to choose the new stock.
‘You tell your landlord you want to buy,’ I said. ‘I’ll speak to Mr Smythe and make the money available.’
‘Are you sure you can manage it, Emma?’ She looked excited and anxious all at the same time.
‘Father left me nearly four hundred pounds,’ I told her. ‘And I’ve saved another hundred and thirty.’ She looked so surprised that I laughed. ‘Not from my wages!’
‘I shan’t ask, Emma. Where the money came from is your business.’ She was folding the smock, putting it into a bag. ‘Take this as a present, with my love. It will seal the bargain between us.’
‘Thank you,’ I said and kissed her. ‘You do realize that this has to be a secret between us?’
‘Yes, of course. I understand you wouldn’t want everyone to know.’
‘Richard would be furious,’ I said. ‘Keep the property in your name, Mrs Henty. We’ll have something put in writing at the lawyers’.’
‘It might be best that way,’ she agreed. ‘And call me Madge, Emma – seeing as we’re partners now.’
After leaving her, I went straight to Mr Smythe’s office. He was on the point of leaving for the night, but was good enough to see me at once. And, after I’d told him what I wanted, expressed his agreement.
‘We’ll make it an interest-free loan against the property,’ he said. ‘That way it would revert to you if Mrs Henty were to die.’
‘She isn’t going to die,’ I said, ‘but do whatever you think best.’
‘Do you want me to arrange a bank loan for the extra money?’
‘No. I have a hundred and thirty pounds in the Post Office. I’ll get it out as soon as I can.’
If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. I made arrangements for an appointment the following week, then hurried home. Ben would be wanting to get off for his tea, and I had to look after the shop.
I was excited at the idea of being Mrs Henty’s partner. The money I received each month would make me independent of Richard and the shop. He could drink away Father’s stock if he liked.
&nbs
p; As yet, I’d had no luck in my search for Father’s secret hoard. Perhaps it didn’t exist. I intended to go on looking, but at least the money I already had would be safe out of my husband’s reach.
It was the end of February. I was very close to my time now and feeling desperately tired. Richard still wouldn’t agree to my employing another assistant, so my mother had started to take my place for two hours in the afternoons. To my surprise, she seemed to enjoy it.
‘We need some more of those special cigars,’ she told me that afternoon when I went down after my rest. ‘Someone asked for them – and Fry’s dark chocolate. We’re down to our last bar.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ I said, sighing wearily, ‘but Richard takes the money out every night. He only allows me two pounds in change – and your housekeeping money, Mum.’
‘If he keeps on at this rate, the trade will suffer,’ she said. ‘And what are we going to do then, Emma?’
I had told her about the partnership with Mrs Henty. She had been surprised and a little shocked when I explained that the extra money had come mostly from Jonathan Reece. I knew she thought I ought not to have taken it, but I didn’t see why I shouldn’t. Paul owed me something. If it hadn’t been for him, I would never have married Richard and the shop would now have belonged to Mother and me.
‘We’ll manage,’ I said. I raised my eyes to hers. ‘Maybe Richard will come to his senses when he realizes what is happening to the profits. We can’t sell what we haven’t got. And if he doesn’t—’ I shrugged.
She frowned but didn’t say any more. As she went out, I picked up an evening newspaper, scanning the lead stories. The government had recently announced they were intending to spend several million pounds on defence, and the journalist was talking about people making air raid shelters in their own back gardens.
Surely it wouldn’t really be necessary? I knew about the troubles in Germany – the way the Jews were being driven from their homes – but all that seemed so far away. I couldn’t believe that there would really be a war.
I replaced the newspaper in the rack as the bell went and a customer entered. My breath caught in my throat as I saw who it was.
‘Jon!’ I cried, surprised and pleased that he had come. Then I blushed as I realized I’d used his first name. ‘Mr Reece, I mean.’
