Emma

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘Right the first time,’ he said, eyes going over me anxiously. ‘I’m Jon to you, Emma. Should you still be working?’

  ‘I’m fine, really. Just a bit tired sometimes …’ I hesitated. ‘You got my letter? You know my father died last year?’

  ‘Yes, I know, Emma. I’m sorry I didn’t reply. I’ve been busy at Chambers. And my uncle’s estate took some sorting out – there were a lot of debts and documents missing. My aunt has been very upset. I’ve had to spend time with her. We have just managed to find a buyer for the house, that’s why I am in Cambridgeshire.’

  ‘Oh … does that mean Mrs Greenslade will be moving away?’

  ‘She is going to live in Devon with her sister. That house was far too large for her – and Paul doesn’t seem to think he’ll be coming back to this country.’

  ‘I see.’ I realized with a shock that I hadn’t thought of Paul for ages. ‘So you won’t be coming this way again?’

  ‘Oh, I might have business down here occasionally.’ He glanced round the shop, eyes narrowing as he noticed empty spaces on the shelves. ‘Are you managing, Emma? You’ve been getting the money I sent you all right?’

  ‘Yes. It has been a great help to me.’ I explained about the investment I’d made. ‘I really don’t need the fifty pounds anymore.’

  ‘It’s yours by right,’ he said, and took an envelope from his inside pocket. ‘I’m going to be away for a while, Emma – so I’ve brought this today.’

  I could tell the envelope contained money, and was embarrassed.

  ‘Really, you shouldn’t—’

  ‘I want you to have it.’

  I saw the expression in his eyes and blushed. ‘Are you quite sure?’

  ‘Perfectly sure.’

  ‘Then thank you.’ I slipped the envelope into my pocket. ‘You have been so kind all this time, looking after me. I had no right to expect anything from you, Jon.’

  ‘Paul owes it to you,’ he said and smiled at me. ‘Besides, I care what happens to you. You know I would always help if things get too bad.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ I could feel a lump in my throat, and tears stung my eyes. ‘Thank you. I—’

  Ben came in from the back room. Jonathan looked at him, asked for a paper, paid and went out. I wanted to call him back. I wished that we could have gone on talking … that I wasn’t tied to the shop and my husband. But I might as well have wished for the moon.

  ‘Can you manage for a while, Ben? I need to go upstairs.’

  ‘Course I can,’ he said, and eyed me strangely. ‘Ain’t I seen that toff before?’

  ‘Mr Reece has been in the shop before,’ I replied. ‘He is a lawyer from London, Ben.’

  ‘Not much of a looker, is he?’

  ‘He is quite attractive,’ I replied, ‘and very kind. I like him so you need not be rude about him.’

  ‘Sorry, Emma. Only asking.’

  ‘I’ll be down again in a few minutes, Ben.’

  I was anxious to go upstairs and put away the money that had just been given me. Richard was on the early shift and he might be home soon. I didn’t want him to see it or he would want to know where it had come from.

  I opened the top drawer of my dressing table and reached for the old toffee tin at the back. At the moment it contained two pounds and my Post Office book. I had two shillings and sixpence left in it. I’d thought of closing it, but hadn’t got around to it. Now, I would be able to deposit some of the money Jon had given me.

  I counted the notes, feeling shocked when I realized he had given me an extra ten pounds this time. How had he persuaded Paul to do that? I sat staring at the money, puzzling over it, and then I suddenly understood. I realized what I should have known from the beginning – it wasn’t Paul’s money. Any of it. Jon had been paying me fifty pounds a quarter out of his own pocket!

  How much did a junior partner earn in a London law firm? It couldn’t be that much, surely? I felt guilty. I would have to repay him somehow.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ Richard’s voice startled me. I jumped and snatched the money up as he made a grab for it.

  ‘It’s mine – nothing to do with you.’

  His fingers encircled my wrist, gripping it so hard that I was forced to drop the money and my savings book. He picked the book up, giving a snort of disbelief as he saw I had withdrawn a large sum some weeks earlier.

  ‘Where did this come from – and what did you do with it?’

  ‘I – it was some of the money Father left me,’ I lied, hoping he wouldn’t look at the dates it had been deposited. But he was only interested in the withdrawal and what I had done with the money. ‘I needed it to pay some bills after he died.’

  ‘If you’re lying to me, Emma—’ He swore and made a fist at me. ‘You said the profits were down because we’re low on certain stock. If I find out that you’ve been helping yourself …’

  ‘You can see the account books any time you like,’ I said. ‘And we do need more stock. Look at the shelves – they’re half empty.’ I gasped as he thrust the money into his pocket. ‘That’s my money. I need it – I need things for the baby.’

  I caught at his arm. He thrust me away, hitting me with the back of his hand.

  ‘Please, Richard! I have to feed and clothe myself and the baby.’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned the brat would be better dead.’ He glared at me, then put his hand in his pocket and withdrew three pounds. ‘That’s all you’re getting – and if I find out you were lying, I’ll make you sorry.’

  I picked up the money, furious with myself for letting him catch me unawares.

  ‘I hate you, Richard Gillows!’

  I was shocked by my own words. How had it got this bad? At the start I had really felt we stood a chance, but little by little he had killed any feeling there was for him in me, and now I was close to hating him.

  ‘Do you now?’ he grabbed hold of me, dragging me from the edge of the bed into a standing position. ‘Well, maybe I’ll give you something to really hate me for one day.’ Then he shoved me away so that I stumbled against the dressing chest.

  I cried out as the pain whipped through me, clutching at my belly. ‘Don’t hit me again,’ I begged. ‘It’s the baby. I think I’m starting it. You’ve brought it on too soon.’

  ‘Let’s hope it dies,’ he said and turned away with a snarl on his lips. ‘You too for all I care!’

  I sat on the edge of the bed, doubling up with pain as he went out. It hurt so much – and it was too soon.

  It hurt so much that I didn’t turn my head as Mother came in. She was across the room in seconds, sitting on the bed beside me, her arm about my waist.

  ‘That devil!’ she muttered. ‘He hurt you. We’ll go, Emma. It doesn’t matter about this place. We’ll go now, before he kills you.’

  ‘Not tonight,’ I gasped, and turned towards her. ‘It’s coming, Mum. My baby is coming …’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘You should have told me he’d actually hit you before this,’ Gran said when she visited me the next day. My beautiful new-born son was lying in the cot beside me, waving his tiny fist at her. ‘I’ll set Richard straight, Emma. He won’t hit you again, I promise you that.’

  ‘You don’t know him,’ I said. I looked at her anxiously. I could see a difference in her. She looked older, more fragile somehow. ‘He might hurt you. Please don’t risk it, Gran.’

  ‘I’ll not let him make your life a misery. Just let him wait until I see him. I’ll make his insides turn to water.’

  ‘Do you want to hold James?’ I asked, trying to turn the subject. ‘I was afraid he might be harmed but the doctor says he’s fine – perfectly healthy. He is beautiful, isn’t he?’

  ‘Aye, he’s that all right,’ Gran said. She turned her head as we heard the sound of Richard’s voice in the other room. Her expression was grim, determined. ‘I’ll be back in a moment, Emma.’

  ‘Gran – please don’t—’

  It was no use, sh
e wasn’t listening. I glanced at my son as he lay peacefully in his cot. His birth had cost me several hours of pain and anguish, and I had feared for his life, because I knew Richard’s brutality had made me go into labour two weeks early.

  The loud voices from the next room startled me.

  ‘You don’t frighten me, you old hag!’

  ‘Don’t you dare speak to my mother like that!’

  ‘I’ll teach you—’

  I froze in horror as I heard the argument going on in the parlour. Why hadn’t Gran listened to me? She didn’t realize that Richard wasn’t like my father. He had no respect for anyone he could knock down with his fists, and would not care about hurting her.

  ‘Touch my daughter or Emma again,’ Gran said, ‘and I’ll make sure you won’t live the year out, Richard Gillows.’

  ‘What are you going to do – put a curse on me? They say you’re a witch,’ Richard sneered mockingly. ‘Maybe they should have burned you years ago.’

  ‘Aye, happen they should,’ Gran said. ‘I’ve never used my powers for evil yet, Richard Gillows, but there’s a first time for everything. The next time you hurt my girl, you’ll feel a pain in your belly. The pain will grow and burn your insides, and you’ll lose your manhood. If you persist in your bullying, you will die within the year.’

  Gran’s voice sounded so odd. I had been summoning the strength to get out of bed and stop their argument, but something made me fall back against the pillows, unable to move even a finger. I shivered, feeling cold all over. Gran really did sound as though she was cursing him.

  ‘You’re just a senile old woman,’ Richard shouted, but his voice too was strange, as though he half believed her. ‘Damn you! And damn that little whore in there!’

  I heard the sound of heavy feet as he stamped along the hall and down the stairs. For a moment there was silence, then a muffled thud as he slammed the door of the shop behind him.

  Gran came back into the bedroom. Her eyes glittered, and I knew she had relished the scene with Richard. She looked younger and was definitely pleased with herself.

  ‘That should make him think twice. And if it doesn’t, I’ll give Greta something to put in his dinner – not to poison him, mind. Just to make him feel a little sorry for himself.’

  ‘Gran!’ I stared at her, half shocked, half amused. ‘You wouldn’t – would you?’

  ‘If it was the only way to stop him hurting you.’ She glanced at my mother. ‘It’s been done before, I daresay. There’s more ways than one of drawing the tiger’s tooth. I’ll do what needs to be done for your sake, Emma. And your mother will do the same.’

  Mother wouldn’t look at her, but her manner was guilty. I remembered Father’s illness at my wedding and wondered. Surely she wouldn’t have … not deliberately? Was it possible that my mother had put something in Father’s food that day? No, she couldn’t have. I dismissed the idea hastily.

  I looked at Gran doubtfully. ‘You haven’t really put a curse on him, have you?’

  She chortled with delight, her eyes screwing up with laughter. ‘Only if he thinks I have, love. It’s all in the mind. You can curse some ’til you’re blue in the face. Harold would have laughed his head off. I had other ways of dealing with him. But there’s some frighten themselves. If Richard wants to believe I’ve cursed him, he’ll mayhap bring on the symptoms I’ve put into his mind.’

  ‘Oh, Gran …’ I wasn’t sure what to believe. ‘You’re a terrible woman.’

  ‘I look after those I care for,’ she said. ‘Richard knows he only has to leave you alone. Nothing will happen unless he hurts you.’

  Her eyes glittered suddenly, and I felt a coldness go through me. Father had died of stomach pains and sickness – could he have been poisoned?

  No, surely not! Not Gran. Not my mother! Both had wanted to protect me – but surely neither of them would have gone to such lengths for my sake? I certainly hadn’t wanted him dead.

  ‘Well, I’ll be off, lass.’ Gran bent stiffly to kiss me and then the baby. ‘If Richard starts on you again, just you let me know.’

  I nodded but said nothing. I would need to be careful not to let her or my mother see any bruises Richard inflicted in future. He was a brute but I had no desire for his death – or the trouble their meddling might bring down on our heads.

  ‘He won’t,’ I said, smiling at her. ‘Things will be better now the baby is born. He was just jealous, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ll see you out, Ma.’

  My mother followed hers from the room. I could hear them whispering together at the top of the stairs, but their words were indistinct. A few minutes later, my mother returned. She was smiling, and I thought she looked relieved, as though a weight had somehow lifted from her mind.

  ‘What have you two been hatching out between you?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing at all, Emma.’ She shook her head at me. ‘Your Gran knows a lot about herbs and things, love, but she wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not really. Besides, curses don’t kill people, that’s old wives’ talk. Like she said, it’s all in the mind. Just harmless nonsense. It might make Richard think before he lashes out next time, but that can’t be bad, can it?’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose so,’ I said, but I was uneasy. ‘I just think it’s best not to stir things up. I wouldn’t want anything horrible to happen – to any of us.’

  ‘It’s not going to happen, Emma.’

  ‘I meant what I said, Mum. If Richard hits me again, I shall leave him. I’ll have a bit put by soon, and I shall be able to work again. We could go somewhere together. You could look after James while I work. We could manage.’

  I thought regretfully of the money Jon had given me. I had made up my mind not to take any more from him. While I’d believed it was from Paul, I had felt justified in accepting it, but now I couldn’t. Jon owed me nothing. He had already done far more than I could ever have expected.

  Mother looked at me thoughtfully. I could see something in her eyes, some hesitation. ‘Yes, we could go whenever we liked,’ she said. ‘But we must have one last search for those gold coins, Emma. You’ve been too tired to bother much lately – but I’m sure they are here somewhere. And they belong to you. Why should we leave them for Richard – or a stranger if he sells? And you would have to sign or he’d never leave you in peace.’

  ‘They belong to us, Mum. You deserve them as much as anyone.’ I smiled at her as my son began to whimper. ‘Give him to me, will you?’

  She reached into the cot, placing the child in my arms. Her expression was a little odd as she looked at me. ‘All I want is for you to be secure and happy,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter about me. It was always for you – always for you, Emma.’

  She watched for a few moments, then turned and went out, leaving me to nurse my son.

  What had she done for my sake? She had expected Father to leave me most of his property – but would she have killed for my sake?

  I prayed that she had not. Father had been harsh to us both, but I believed in my heart that he had cared for me in his way – and perhaps he had once loved my mother. Jealousy and endless quarrels had turned that love to hatred over the years. And some of the blame for that must lie with my mother.

  Had she punished him at the end for his harsh treatment of her by putting something in his food? I recalled the fear in her eyes when she’d realized he might be dying.

  ‘I never wanted him to die, Emma.’

  I had wondered at her fear then, but now I thought I understood. It was possible that she had tried to make him ill – so that he wouldn’t have such a hold over us. Yet I did not believe she would deliberately kill.

  Not my mother. Not Gran. It would be too horrible. A wicked evil crime – committed to protect me …

  I lay thinking about it for a while, then I slept. When I woke it was to laugh at myself and my foolish imagination. Gran had played a silly joke on Richard, that was all.

  The room smelt of flowers. There was a vase of early daffodils on
the dressing table, and a small jug of snowdrops by my bed.

  As I stared at them, thinking of the message of hope and reborn life such flowers always gave, the door opened and Richard entered. I was surprised to see that he was wearing his best suit and his hair was slicked down with oil. He gave me a sheepish look as he apologized.

  ‘I bought you some flowers,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Emma. I shouldn’t have hit you like that – and I shouldn’t have said those things.’ He took some money from his pocket and laid it on the table beside the bed. ‘I’ve spent a few pounds – but that’s your money.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll use some of it to order stock we need,’ I said, knowing I had to meet him halfway. I didn’t want this marriage, I wanted to be free – but Richard would never give me a divorce. ‘Why can’t we at least try to get on? I don’t mind that Father left the shop to you – but I can’t run the business properly if you take all the money. And that means it will eventually run out.’

  ‘I’ll do better,’ he promised, obviously subdued. ‘I never meant it to be this way. I’m a devil with the drink in me, always was. Me ma said I’d end up bad – just like my father.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘He died drunk in a ditch. Ma had him buried on the parish. She said he was worthless, and that I was like him.’

  ‘Sometimes you are,’ I said, meeting his eyes steadily. ‘But we might have been all right together if you hadn’t started to get drunk all the time.’

  ‘I could try again,’ he said, looking shamefaced. ‘You look after the money, Emma. Run the shop the way you want. I’ll stick to my wages – and I’ll try to keep sober.’

  ‘If you do that, Richard, we’ll manage.’

  His hand moved towards me, then fell back. ‘Jealousy is a terrible thing, Emma. It drives a man mad.’

  ‘Yes, I know that, Richard. But you have no need to be jealous of Paul. It was just a young girl’s foolishness, that’s all. All I want now is a proper life – the way you promised it would be.’