by Rosie Clarke
‘Would you, Emma? I know you’re busy with the sales, but I can’t seem to think straight. Gwen came round. She’s … seeing to things. She knows what to do, but I can’t stop crying. I do want you to come. I need you.’
‘I’ll pack a few things and be with you in a few hours. There’s nothing I can do from here. Ask Gwen to stay with you until I get there.’
‘Yes, she said she would. She has been very kind, but I need you.’
‘I love you, Mum. I’ll be with you soon. I promise.’
I replaced the receiver as the tears came to my eyes. We had all been so happy just a few days earlier. Now Bert had gone. He had been ill for a while, but none of us had expected this. Not so suddenly. It was hard to believe it had happened.
Sol was stunned when I rang him at the showroom. Bert was only a couple of years his senior.
‘That’s a shame,’ he said. ‘He was a decent man – and good to your mother. Yes, you go down straight away.’
‘Will you do something for me?’
‘You want me to tell Jack where you’ve gone, don’t you?’
‘Yes. Tell him I will ring when I get back.’
‘I’ll tell him. Is there anything else I can do? What about the new shop? Weren’t they coming to finish the fittings this week?’
‘Yes. Would you take care of it for me?’
‘Yes, of course. Take care – and tell your mother I’m sorry.’
‘I will. I’ll let you know when the funeral is. You will come down?’
‘I couldn’t do otherwise. Bert was family.’
I was crying again as I replaced the receiver; then I rang Jon.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure when I can get down. I’ve had a bit of a chill myself – but I’ll come for the funeral, of course.’
‘No, don’t come if you’re not well, Jon. Mum wouldn’t want you to. Telephone her this evening, and send flowers. That will be enough.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t want to offend Greta.’
‘She won’t be offended. She is very fond of you, Jon. She wouldn’t want you to risk your own health. Nor would I.’
‘Then I shan’t come. I’ve been in bed for a couple of days. Mrs Martin has been very helpful. I’ve been well looked after, Emma. She has made me soup and hot drinks.’
‘I could come down after …’
‘No, that’s not necessary, darling. Take care of Greta. She will need you. I am not ill – just unwell. You don’t need to make a fuss.’
‘Sorry. I have to go now. I’ve got to catch my train.’
Everything else that had been playing on my mind was forgotten as I tried to comfort my mother. She was distraught with grief. In fact, she cried so much that I thought she would be ill and fetched the doctor to her.
‘She needs sleep,’ he told me. ‘I’ll leave her a sleeping draught. It should help, but I wouldn’t recommend it as a habit.’
‘No, of course not. She will be better tomorrow.’
Mum slept after she had taken the medicine mixed with a glass of warm milk. I sat with her until she drifted off, holding her hand; then I slipped under the cover beside her.
‘I can’t bear to sleep in there …’ she had told me when we passed the room she had shared with Bert. So we were both sleeping in the guest room.
During the night, Mum moaned once or twice. She spoke Bert’s name and then cried out, ‘No, Harold! Don’t hit me … please don’t hit me.’
She was having a nightmare from the past. I stroked her hair back from her forehead. ‘It’s all right, Mum. He can’t hit you. He’s dead.’ She quietened again, but I felt sad for her.
She’d had so many years of unhappiness with my father, and just a handful of good ones with Bert. It wasn’t fair that she had lost her husband so soon.
In the days that followed, we talked about Bert a lot. Mum told me things about when she was a young girl and courting her true love.
‘I was sixteen when he first noticed me,’ she said. I knew he fancied me, Emma, but I played hard to get. I kept him dangling after me for nearly two years – then I let him kiss me after we’d been to a fair. We neither of us meant it to go so far, but after it had happened – well, we couldn’t stop. The wonder of it is that you’re not Bert’s child, but it just didn’t happen.’
‘You’ve always been sure?’
‘Oh, yes. I hadn’t seen Bert for three months before I married Harold. You were born eight months and three weeks later, and you were early because I’d had a fall. At least that’s what the doctor said …’
‘Then Father must have known I was his all the time.’
‘In his heart I’m sure he did, but he couldn’t forgive me for not being a virgin on our wedding night. I tried to tell him it was over, but you know all this …’
‘Yes, I know.’
It was so sad that she had married the wrong man.
‘I sent Bert away and I’ve always regretted it,’ she said. ‘Maybe I didn’t deserve these years of happiness, but I’ve been lucky. You’re lucky too, Emma. Jon really loves you. You shouldn’t forget that, Emma. Not many women are that lucky.’
I glanced away. ‘We’re not living together, Mum. You know that.’
‘It’s an odd arrangement,’ she agreed. ‘But at least you are friends. Your father and I were never that.’
I nodded, but didn’t say anything. Mum wouldn’t approve of my seeing Jack again. She was fond of Jon. She respected him for what he’d done in the war, and would think I was letting him down.
If I did have an affair, I would have to keep it from her.
‘What are you thinking, Emma?’
‘I was remembering something Margaret once said to me … about taking your chances of happiness when they come.’
‘Yes,’ she said, thinking I was talking about her and Bert. ‘I’m glad that we had that holiday last summer. Bert really enjoyed himself, and Christmas too.’
‘Yes, at least he had that …’
We talked on, remembering the good things. I knew that Mum was beginning to get over the first, sharp pain of losing Bert, though she would continue to grieve for a long time. After the funeral, I would take her back to London with me.
‘Come back with me, Mum,’ I pleaded. ‘At least for a few days. Give yourself a chance to get used to the idea of living alone.’
‘It’s best to start as you mean to go on,’ she said. ‘If I ran away from it now, I wouldn’t be able to face coming back.’
‘But you don’t have to, Mum. You can stay with us for as long as you like. We should all be glad to have you.’
She shook her head. ‘No, Emma. I’ll come and stay sometimes, like always – and Jon has asked me to visit him. I think I shall go down next week. He doesn’t sound at all well to me.’
The look she directed at me was reproachful.
‘I offered to go down. He said it wasn’t necessary.’
‘You should go anyway. He is your husband, Emma – though I think you sometimes forget it.’
‘That’s not fair, Mum. You don’t understand. Jon doesn’t want me to go at the moment. Really, he doesn’t. If he did, he would have said something.’
‘Well, I think someone should, and if you won’t, I shall.’
Her tone and manner were accusing. We were close to quarrelling. I was shocked. We hardly ever argued.
‘I’ll telephone Jon, ask him if he wants me there – but if he says no, I shan’t go.’
‘Do it now then.’
I obeyed for the sake of peace. The telephone was answered by Mrs Martin.
‘Mrs Reece. What a shame!’ she said. ‘Mr Reece went out for a walk a few minutes ago. He will be sorry to have missed you. Is there a message I can give him?
‘No, no message. I was just ringing to see how he was.’
‘Oh, much better. Yes, almost his old self again.’
‘He’s much better – that’s good news. I’ll ring again one evening next week.’
Mum looked unconvinced as I replaced the receiver. ‘Well, I still think you should go, but I can’t force you. I don’t know what your plans are for the future, Emma – but Jon doesn’t deserve to be hurt.’
‘What does that mean?’ I felt defensive as I looked at her. She blamed me because Jon had chosen to live alone.
‘You’ve allowed Jack Harvey back into your life.’
‘You seemed to approve of Jack during the war.’
‘That was when you thought Jon had been killed. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your life alone, but things are different now.’
‘Are they?’
I almost told her the truth about my marriage then, but kept it inside. It wasn’t Jon’s fault that he couldn’t be a proper husband to me. The least I owed him was to protect our private life.
‘What are you saying, Emma?’ Her gaze narrowed in suspicion. ‘I just don’t understand what’s going on between you two. If it isn’t because of Jack Harvey …’
‘It’s Jon’s writing,’ I said. ‘He needs peace to write, and apparently he finds my life too exhausting.’
‘Well, I suppose that’s understandable,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve wronged you – but I wouldn’t like to see you hurt Jon. He was always good to you. He helped you a lot when you were going through a bad time.’
‘Yes, I know that. I haven’t forgotten. I don’t want to hurt him either.’
The subject was dropped. We talked about inconsequential matters until it was time for me to leave, then she came and kissed my cheek.
‘We won’t part in anger,’ she said. ‘You know I love you – but sometimes you’re inclined to go your own way no matter what. Think before you leap, love.’
‘Yes, I shall,’ I promised. ‘And I’m not angry. I love you, too. Take care of yourself – and don’t be lonely. Come to us whenever you like.’
I was sorry that she had chosen to stay at the cottage. I knew she was independent, but she would feel Bert’s loss more after I left.
I mulled over what my mother had said as I sat staring out of the train window going home. She was right, of course. Sometimes I did act without thinking of the consequences for others.
It wasn’t only Jon I had to consider, there was Angie, too. She wasn’t just Jack’s wife, a faceless woman I could pretend wasn’t there. I had met her, spoken to her – liked her. How could I deliberately destroy her marriage?
Two weeks passed and I did not telephone Jack. Instead I threw myself into my work, trying to blot out the sharp longing I felt every time I thought of him.
My new shop was just about ready for the grand opening. I was there long before anyone else that morning, checking every detail so that everything was as perfect as I could make it. As I walked through the different departments on three floors, I could not help feeling a rush of pride. What I had here was a highly individual store that would provide women with everything they needed for personal wear.
I had a lingerie department, hosiery, beachwear – with a rather exciting display of bathing costumes for mother and daughter – knitwear, pretty blouses, costumes, dresses for day and evening, jackets and coats. And a rail of nothing but tailored slacks! There was a whole floor devoted to hats, gloves, bags and shoes – also a department for the enthusiastic needlewoman.
A woman looking for a special outfit would be able to buy everything she needed, matching gloves to shoes, hats to dresses, under one roof. The major department stores already provided a similar service, of course, but they sold other goods, too, and the different departments were often too far apart to make matching colours easy. My shop was devoted to the fashion-conscious woman.
I intended to sell exclusive designs that could not be bought elsewhere, as well as the normal, less expensive ranges. It was something new and exciting. Having borrowed to finance my new business, I knew I was taking a risk. If the customers did not return again and again to buy, I could lose much of the capital I had invested.
I refused to think of failure. All my other shops had done well. I could only trust that my luck would hold.
I asked all my friends to the champagne opening. We cut a blue ribbon and had displays of flowers throughout the shop.
There was a steady stream of customers through the front door the first day. They came to look, and a few bought bits and pieces, but it was not a wonderful day for business.
‘Don’t worry,’ Sol said to me that evening. ‘It’s different, Emma. You knew that when you opened. You have to give it time to work.’
‘Yes, I know.’
I was a little disappointed that night, but the next day the sales were better. They improved gradually day by day. My idea wasn’t a raging success, but it was beginning to work. If I could hold on long enough, the upturn was bound to come.
Chapter 9
It was now three weeks since Bert’s funeral. I still hadn’t telephoned Jack. I imagined Angie must be back in town, and thought the time of temptation had passed. When Jack rang to ask if he could take James out that weekend, I agreed to be at home when he came to fetch him. After all, what harm could it do just to see him, here in the house?
‘I have to talk to you, Emma.’
My heart was racing wildly, but I replied in a calm, flat tone. ‘Yes, we should talk.’
‘On Saturday then?’
‘Yes, why not?’
I was waiting for him an hour before he arrived. I had changed my dress three times, and I was nervous. When he came into the sitting room my heart stood still. He had brought me a huge basket of hot-house flowers, their perfume filling the air.
‘They are lovely, Jack.’ I smiled at him, the familiar wanting beginning once more. ‘There was no need to bring me a present. And you shouldn’t have given me that bracelet at Christmas. I shall never be able to wear it.’
‘You can always sell it.’
His tone was so harsh that I gasped.
‘What’s wrong, Jack? What have I done?’
‘Nothing … of course you haven’t, Emma. It’s all my fault. I’m the only one to blame.’
‘What have you done? Are you in trouble?’
Had he arranged to have Philip killed? Had the police found out?
He smiled oddly. ‘How can you ask, Emma? I’ve ruined everything. I admit it. I know that your marriage is only in name. If I had been patient – if I’d waited …’
‘Jack! Stop talking in riddles. We are both married, but if we both want … it isn’t right, but …’ I stopped as I saw the look in his eyes. There was something more, something he was finding it difficult to tell me. ‘Just tell me. Please.’
‘When we spoke at that dance – in the taxi – when I sent you the bracelet and asked you out to lunch …’ His hands clenched at his sides as if he were trying to control them. ‘I intended to ask you to have an affair with me, Emma. I knew you wouldn’t leave Jon and I couldn’t divorce Angie just yet, but I thought in time … when she was a little older and wouldn’t be so hurt … We might have had a chance of being together properly one day.’
‘Why shouldn’t we, Jack? If we’re careful – if we don’t hurt anyone – why shouldn’t we have a little happiness for ourselves?’
‘I want you so much, Emma. I know what I was planning was wrong, but I couldn’t keep away from you.’ He cursed softly. ‘I wish to blazes I’d never married her!’
‘Why did you – if you didn’t love her?’
‘She was pretty and gentle, and I knew she loved me. Or thought she did, poor child. She didn’t know what she was getting. I thought she might help me to forget you – but it didn’t work. As soon as I saw you again the hunger was back.’
I recognized the desperation in him and my heart leaped with excitement.
‘Jack,’ I said, and moved towards him. I wanted to touch him, to feel his mouth on mine. ‘I’ve never stopped …’
‘Don’t!’ he warned. ‘Don’t say it, Emma. It’s too late. I was going to ask but now …’
; ‘I don’t understand. What has changed?’
My throat was tight. I couldn’t speak. I just had to stand there and listen as he tore my foolish hopes to pieces.
‘Angie is having my child.’
His words were like a knife thrust in my heart. Angie was having Jack’s child … something that I had wanted so much and knew I would never have.
‘I see …’
‘Do you?’ He frowned. ‘She has been ill, a weakness in her heart. The doctor told me she could lose the baby if she is upset … she might even die. I can’t risk that, Emma. Even for you.’ His eyes sought mine as if to ask for forgiveness. ‘You wouldn’t desert Jon when he needed you – how can I desert Angie knowing that it might kill her?’
Of course he couldn’t. It would be too cruel. She was young and vulnerable – and she was carrying his child. Besides, I knew it was unlikely that I could ever give him such a precious gift – if he lost Angie, he might lose all chance of ever having a child of his own.
‘You can’t hurt her, Jack. We mustn’t … do anything to upset her.’
His eyes were bleak as he looked at me. ‘I knew you would say that. You are kinder to me than I was to you.’
‘I love you, Jack. I always have and I always shall.’
‘Emma! My God!’ He moved towards me and the desperation was in his eyes. ‘How can I leave you again? I love you. You are a part of me. I can’t get you out of my system … I never shall …’
He reached out for me. I went into his arms, drawn by the fierce hunger I sensed in him, a hunger that matched my own. We kissed again and again, our hands running over the other’s face, stroking, touching, trying to absorb the beloved features, knowing that when we parted this time it would be for the last time.
He gazed longingly into my face and I sensed what he was about to ask of me.
‘I love you so much,’ Jack said. ‘Just once, Emma … come to me once before we part. Please?’
It was what I had asked of him when we’d parted during the war. He had thrown my words back in my face with such anger that they had haunted me ever since, but I understood his hunger, his need – because it was my own.
