by Rosie Clarke
‘I shall be delighted to have you as my partner. I’ll get my lawyer to draw up an agreement for us both to sign.’
‘Good. That’s settled then.’ I smiled as we raised our wine glasses. ‘I wanted to ask your advice about finding work in London.’
‘What kind of work?’
‘In the clothes trade if possible. I’m not sure what I could do. Work in a shop, or perhaps as a machinist in a factory. Mum taught me to sew, but I’m not as good as she is.’
Sol looked at me thoughtfully. ‘Would you be interested in learning the trade? You would have to start at the bottom, but I could find a place for you.’
‘Would you?’ I stared at him in surprise and pleasure. ‘That’s what I would really like. I’m going to be buying for Mrs Henty from now on. She says trade has gone up since I picked out those dresses, but I should like to know more about the business at this end.’
‘What about your son?’
‘James will be weaned on to soft foods soon. He doesn’t need so many feeds now. I’m going to find somewhere decent to live, then I shall employ a nurse to look after him while I’m at work. Mum was always at home, but she’s married now. Besides, I want to live in London. I want a chance to make something of myself, learn about life.’
‘Well, London is probably the right place to do that.’ He nodded, seeming amused but approving. ‘I can see you’ve got it all worked out. Would you consider living with us? We could never have children. Margaret loves them. She would enjoy having James around, and you could still employ your nurse. You would have your own rooms, and be independent.’
‘I should like to think about that,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I could talk to Margaret this afternoon when we have tea together?’
‘Why don’t you do that?’ He signalled to the waiter. ‘The bill please.’
‘I’m going to pay,’ I said after the waiter had gone. ‘This is my treat, Sol. If we are going to be partners, I have to pay my way.’
‘You are a very determined young woman, Emma,’ he said, his eyes glinting with amusement as he put away his wallet. ‘I have a feeling I am going to gain a great deal from knowing you.’
‘Don’t look so nervous,’ Jon said, glancing at me as we stopped outside the large, red brick house at the edge of the heath in Hampstead. ‘No one’s going to eat you.’
‘You didn’t tell me your grandfather lived in a house like this!’
‘Don’t be fooled by appearances,’ Jon said. ‘It’s a nice house, but Pops doesn’t have a lot of money. He has an income, as Mama does, but there’s no huge fortune tucked away.’
‘Who is Pops?’
‘My grandfather. Everyone calls him Pops. You’ll see why when you meet him.’
An elderly, white-haired man wearing a pair of worn corduroys and a loose brown cardigan was working in the garden as we went in through the wrought iron gates. He glanced up and smiled as we approached, wiping his muddy hands on his breeches.
‘Ah, there you are, Jon,’ he said. ‘Your mother is waiting. Go in, my boy. I’ll be along later, when I’ve cleaned up a bit.’
‘This is Emma, Pops. Emma, my grandfather.’
I was too surprised to answer immediately. I had taken him for the gardener.
‘Welcome, my dear,’ he said, a twinkle in his eyes. ‘I’m actually known as Sir Roy Armstrong, but you can call me Pops or Roy, if you would prefer.’ He glanced at James. ‘And who is this little charmer?’
‘This is my son, James,’ I said, finding my tongue all at once. It would have been impossible to be shy with this man. ‘He’s being good at the moment, but he can be less than charming at times.’
‘No doubt, no doubt. They all can, when they like. Go along in, my dear. Anne has been fretting all day. She thinks you’re some kind of a miracle. This young feller here has dragged his feet in the courting game. We had begun to despair of ever getting ourselves a grandchild to spoil. Now here you both are to order, so to speak.’
I blushed, then laughed.
‘You’re scaring the life out of her,’ Jon said and took my arm, steering me towards the front door. It opened as if by magic. A woman dressed smartly in grey stood in the doorway.
‘There you are, Mr Jonathan,’ she said. ‘Mrs Reece is in the parlour. She’s in such a state. You’d best go in to her straight away.’
‘Yes, Mrs Chalmers.’ He winked at me as she stepped aside to allow us to enter. ‘Mrs Chalmers keeps us all in order,’ he said to me but loud enough for her to hear.
She turned, giving him a quelling look. ‘You will have your little joke. I’m Sir Roy’s housekeeper, madam. I’ve been with him for some years.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you.’
I almost giggled as Jon gave me another wink.
Then we were entering the parlour. It was a large room with high ceilings, furnished in soft shades of green and blue, but slightly shabby in a comfortable, lived-in way. A woman was sitting in a chair by the window. She was small and looked fragile, dressed in a flowing gown of some silky material. I thought how sad and wistful she seemed. Then she smiled and stood up, coming towards us with her hands outstretched.
‘Jon, my dearest,’ she said and kissed him before turning to me. ‘And Emma. I am so pleased to meet you, my dear. Jon has told me all about you. I know he loves you, and I’m sure we shall get along. Is this your son? May I hold him?’
‘Yes, of course.’ I passed James to her. ‘He’s rather heavy, I’m afraid.’
‘I’m quite strong,’ she said, looking down at James as she cradled him. ‘Oh, how lovely he is. He reminds me of someone. I’m not sure who, but it doesn’t matter. Sit down, Emma, and you, Jon.’
James let out a wail. She laughed and gave him back to me as I sat on the sofa. I rocked him and his cries ceased.
‘He knows what he wants,’ she said, and sat down herself. ‘I’ll ring for tea when Pops gets here.’ She smiled as if well satisfied with what she saw. ‘So tell me, Emma, when you are going to put my son out of his misery and marry him?’
‘Mama!’ Jon said and frowned at her. ‘I told you – Emma hasn’t said yes yet.’
‘And why not? It makes sense to have the wedding soon, before this wretched war starts.’
‘Mama …’
‘We’re still getting to know each other,’ I said. ‘I’m sure that’s best for both of us.’
Mrs Reece hesitated, then smiled as her father came in. I sensed that despite her fragile looks, she was used to having her own way.
‘There you are, Pops,’ she said. ‘Now I can ring for tea.’
‘I’m so sorry, Emma,’ Jon said as we left later that afternoon. ‘I can’t think what Mama was about. I told her you needed time before you made up your mind, that you hadn’t said you were going to marry me yet.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I replied. ‘I liked your mother, Jon. And Pops is absolutely lovely.’
‘They liked you, Emma.’ He looked at me expectantly. I knew he was hoping the warm reception from his family would help me to make up my mind.
‘Shall we go out this evening?’ I asked. ‘Margaret Gould said I could leave James with her. She is very nice, Jon, and both Sol and Margaret are looking forward to meeting you. We could have a drink with them and then go on to the theatre. Make it special as this is your last night in London for a while.’
‘It’s the last time I shall see you for some weeks,’ Jon said. ‘We’re not likely to get another pass until training is over.’
‘But I’ll come to the station tomorrow to see you off?’
‘No, Emma,’ he said. He reached out to touch my cheek. ‘I don’t like tearful farewells. We’ll enjoy this evening together, and leave it at that for the moment.’
‘You will write?’
‘You know I shall. As you said, there will be other leaves. We can see each other the next time I’m in London.’
‘Yes, of course. And I’ll write often and tell you how we are.’ I smiled at him, b
ut I could see that he was disappointed.
He had hoped that I would make up my mind to marry him before this, that we would be planning our wedding by now.
I woke the next morning feeling uneasy and a little weepy. Jon had kissed me tenderly as we parted the previous evening. I had clung to him, reluctant to let him go.
‘Take care of yourself, Jon.’
‘Of course. You too, Emma.’
I glanced at the clock as I fed James. He was slow taking his feed that morning. It was half past nine, and Jon’s train was due out of Liverpool Street at a quarter past ten. It would probably be months before I saw him again. My thoughts began to wander. Supposing the war started and he was sent on a mission? Supposing his plane was shot down? Already the papers had begun to talk about how awful this new war would be. I had read of the tragedy of the Thetis, a submarine which had sunk during trials in Liverpool Bay. Aeroplanes were no safer.
Jon could be killed in an accident even before the war started.
I was shocked at the pain that thought caused me. All at once I realized how much he meant to me, what it would be like if he never came back to me.
What a stupid fool I had been, wasting these last precious days! Yes, I wanted a little freedom, but Jon wasn’t like my father or Richard. He knew and approved of my wanting to learn about the clothing business. He would never try to dictate to me as the others had.
The time was creeping by. Jon hadn’t wanted me at the station to say goodbye, but I had to be there. I had to tell him how much I loved and needed him.
Grabbing my son and my purse, I ran down the hotel stairs and out into the sunshine. A taxi was passing. I waved frantically at him from the side of the road and he pulled into the kerb.
‘Where to, love?’
‘Liverpool Street Station. I’ve got to get there before quarter past ten.’
‘Bit tight,’ he said. ‘You’ve left it late.’
‘My … my fiancé is catching a train. He’s in the RAF. I shan’t see him for ages, and I need to tell him something.’
‘Had a bit of a tiff?’ He grinned as I nodded. ‘Jump in. I’ll do my best but I can’t promise.’
I got into the back seat, clutching James. My heart was pounding wildly and I was terrified I was going to be too late.
I mustn’t be! I had to see Jon. I had to tell him I loved him. Why hadn’t I agreed to marry him after Mum’s wedding? Everyone had told me I was a fool. I was stupid. Stupid!
I thrust a pound note at the cab driver when he stopped and jumped out of the car, not stopping for change. Where would I find Jon? Which platform? There were three minutes left … where should I look?
I was close to despair, breathless, my heart pounding madly. I didn’t even know exactly where he was going. Every platform was busy as I looked frantically from side to side. It was impossible. I would never find him. And then I saw him. He was standing next to a train, which looked almost ready to depart, obviously about to board.
‘Jon!’ I screamed at the top of my voice, uncaring of people turning to stare. ‘Jon! Wait!’
He turned as I rushed up to him, surprise mixing with pleasure in his eyes as he saw me. Then he moved to catch me in his arms.
‘Emma,’ he said. ‘I was just wishing I’d let you come. You must have known how much I wanted to see you, my darling.’
‘I had to come,’ I cried, tears beginning to trickle down my cheeks as he kissed me. ‘I couldn’t let you go without telling you I love you. I will marry you, Jon, on your next leave.’
‘My darling,’ he said, hugging me so tightly that James protested with a wail of outrage. ‘I love you so much. You don’t know what this means to me.’
The guard was slamming doors. Jon kissed me again, then released me and jumped on to the train as the whistle was blown. He let the window down, leaning out to me. I began to walk beside the train as it lurched forwards. I was crying and laughing at the same time.
‘Take care of yourself, Jon. Write to me soon.’
‘I will.’ He blew several kisses. ‘I love you, Emma. I love you. And James, too.’
‘I love you …’
The platform was running out. I couldn’t go any further. The train was taking him away from me. I stopped walking and stood waving to Jon until the train was finally out of sight. For a moment I was desolate, filled with regrets for what might have been. We might have been lovers. We might have been married. I had been such a fool to waste those beautiful, sunlit days by the sea.
‘Please come back safely,’ I whispered. ‘Come back to me, Jon. I do love you. I do …’
I thought wistfully of what might have been had the war not been imminent. Jon loved me and I loved him, there was nothing to stop us being happy together. I hated the train that had taken him away from me, and the war that meant we could not be together for weeks or even months.
Then, as I left the station, emerging into the sunlight, I began to smile. It was settled now. All the doubting and hesitation were over. I was going to marry Jon on his next leave. In the meantime, I would move in with Margaret and Solomon Gould, and tomorrow Sol was going to start teaching me all there was to know about cloth and the ‘rag’ trade.
The future looked bright, full of interest and new relationships. I held my life in my own hands, to shape as I wished. From now on, I could do it my way …
Read on for a sneak peek at the next book in the Emma series
Emma’s War
Also by Rosie Clarke
Coming soon from Ebury Press
Chapter One
‘Daring raid liberates British prisoners …’ The newsboy’s strident tones caught my attention and I went to buy a paper. ‘That’s right, love, read all about it … rescued from the Altmark … British prisoners in daring escape.’
I smiled and walked on, scanning the headlines in the paper. It was February 1940 and at last there was some good news. Something to cheer us up after weeks of gloom in the papers. Though London itself was still far from gloomy despite the official black-out, and I had just come from a lunch-time chamber concert. They were drawing crowds. People were determined to make the best of things, to enjoy themselves where they could, and most of the theatres were opening up again after closing down when the lights first went out all over the city.
‘Watch out, sweetheart!’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’
Absorbed in my paper, I had walked straight into a man. He caught my arm, steadying me, a huge grin on his face. I noticed that he had very dark, almost black hair, and that his eyes were a dark, bitter chocolate brown. He was also very good looking!
‘If you’re not careful, you’ll hurt yourself,’ he said, seeming concerned for my welfare.
‘I’m fine – but did I hurt you?’
‘Not so as you’d notice. I guess I’m pretty tough.’
His smile was infectious, making me respond with one of my own. ‘Perhaps that’s as well, seeing as I must have trodden on your foot. It was clumsy of me. I wasn’t looking where I was going, because I was just so pleased to read about those prisoners being rescued … it’s marvellous news, isn’t it?’
He seemed to know what I meant, nodding agreement. ‘Yes. It’s always good when something like that happens.’
‘Especially at the moment.’
‘Yes.’ He looked serious now. ‘It can’t be easy for you British at the moment, and I’m afraid it’s going to get a hell of a lot rougher before this is all over.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right …’ I smiled at him again. ‘Forgive me, but I must go. I have to get back to work.’
‘I guess so …’
‘Bye then.’
He caught my arm as I tried to pass him. ‘I’m Jack Harvey. American, single, free, here on business, and feeling lonely. You wouldn’t have time for a drink one night? Maybe tonight even? I promise I don’t bite …’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, shaking my head at him but smiling because he was looking so eager. �
�I’m engaged to someone, a man I love. It was nice meeting you, Mr Harvey – but I must go.’
‘OK. It was worth a try.’
He let me go with a rueful grin. I walked on, smiling to myself. It wasn’t the first time I’d been asked out by a stranger. There were a lot of young men at a loose end in London at the moment. Young servicemen on leave from their units. Many of them were alone in a strange city and feeling a bit lost … or frightened. Mr Harvey wasn’t one of them, of course. His country wasn’t officially at war, though Sol believed the Americans were helping us more behind the scenes than anyone yet knew.
Thinking of Sol made me remember I was going to be late for work, and I began to run. That afternoon was an important one for me and I didn’t want to start out on the wrong foot.
I was in the workshop when the telephone rang that afternoon, but didn’t take much notice. This was the first time Sol had trusted me with the good cloth, and I wanted to get it exactly right.
I was concentrating very hard as I cut carefully round the edge of the dress pattern. We couldn’t afford to waste cloth, even though clothes rationing had not yet begun. Sol said the Government was only waiting for the right moment before they imposed it. Besides, it was a matter of pride that I should be able to cut well. The cutting was the most important part of tailoring. Sol had impressed that on me from the very beginning.
‘A good cutter is worth his weight in gold,’ Sol had told me that first morning. ‘Never forget it, Emma. In this trade you can cut corners in a score of ways, but never economise on your skilled labour. They are your business.’
Sol should know. He had started out as a cutter himself, the son of impoverished immigrants, and now he was an extremely wealthy man – also a very wise and a very kind man.
I glanced behind me. Mr Jackson, Sol’s top cutter, was watching me from his corner of the workshop, though trying not to let me see it. He gave me an encouraging smile, but let me get on with it. Sol had given strict instructions that I was to be given no help, and I wasn’t going to ask.
