by Val Wood
He took her coat and hung it up for her and pressed his hand to her shoulder before he took his seat.
‘A regular income is what you need,’ he said. ‘Perhaps in time, depending on the hours you work, Robin might come for a weekend? During the summer holidays, or maybe even at Easter, which is not so far away?’
She looked up from the menu that she was looking at but not reading. ‘I was wondering about that, but maybe not at Easter,’ she said. ‘When I was last in Paull Robin told me they were going to paint hard-boiled eggs and play egg rolling and other games during the Easter holidays. He’s never done that before.’
‘Then perhaps you could stay there for a day or two,’ he said gently. ‘They sound like nice people; surely they would welcome you.’
‘Yes, they would.’ She pondered for a moment. She had always wanted a good life for her boy, yet she still felt a keen sense of loss when she thought of him enjoying that life without her. It was hard to grasp, sometimes.
‘Do you think,’ he said softly, covering her hand with his, ‘that I might meet this wondrous boy of yours one day?’
Her lips parted as she gazed at him. ‘Of course you can,’ she said. ‘I would be so pleased if you did. Arthur said that he’d like to see him again too, but he seems to have disappeared, as does Jenny.’
He withdrew his hand, ‘Ah, yes, Arthur! What will you have?’ he asked briskly as he saw the proprietor heading towards them. ‘I’m having the meat pie.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Giles seemed preoccupied when they left the café and he asked her to excuse him. He had to make a call at his bank and would catch up with her later.
What had brought on that strange manner? she wondered. Was it something she’d said? She thought back to their conversation, and realized it had been the mention of Arthur Crawshaw’s name that had triggered the change. Then she understood. Giles and I have been good friends ever since we met, but along has come an older friend who, it has to be said, is inclined to monopolize any conversation. It’s only natural that Giles might be irritated by him. I do understand that.
It was still sunny, and she sat on a seat outside Holy Trinity church and put her face up to the sky, closing her eyes. Most single women with a child might never expect life to be easy, she contemplated; and yet I’ve been so lucky. I’ve taken care of him when he was vulnerable and loved him, and I’ve now been given another chance to improve his life; and if it means that we have to live apart I must accept that. Robin is safe and content and I must take comfort even though – she stifled a sob that had caught in her throat – it hurts.
A shadow fell across her and she opened her eyes to see who was stealing her sunlight. It was Giles.
He sat down beside her. ‘I’m sorry to have dashed away. I was rather distracted.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m the one to be sorry. I shouldn’t expect to monopolize every conversation with details of my life. You’re always very understanding.’
He patted her hand. ‘What you don’t seem capable of doing is relinquishing your role of chief protector of your son, when there are now others who are ready and willing to bear the responsibility. You have so much more than other women who might be in a similar situation,’ he said, almost echoing her thoughts of a few minutes before. ‘You’ve a new-found family who will love – do love – your son, and you should let them; and, although it sticks in my craw to say it, give his father the opportunity to make amends.’
They sat quietly and people around them went about their business, office workers hurrying back to their places of work, women shopping and schoolboys returning to the grammar school after their midday break. Giles commented that it was one of the best schools in England, and then, as if by mutual accord, they rose to wend their way back to their lodgings.
‘Did you pick up your post this morning?’ Giles asked as they walked, and Delia said no, she hadn’t noticed it. She wondered who would write to her; only her agent knew where she was. The thought reminded her that she must write to him to cancel her arrangement with him once and for all.
‘I didn’t mean to pry,’ Giles said. ‘I also had post delivered this morning and happened to see yours. I have a buyer for the York house,’ he added, almost as an afterthought.
‘Really? So soon!’
‘The agents described it as a desirable dwelling, but my only desire was to be rid of it and begin my life again.’
‘So you are at a crossroads,’ she observed quietly. ‘I hope your new life works out the way you want it to, but I also hope that you don’t stray too far away. I – I’d miss our friendship,’ she said softly, and was struck by an unfamiliar emotion; she realized that she would be very sad if he chose to leave. But I must hold my emotions at bay. There should be no expectation of anything but friendship.
He glanced down at her, his gaze lingering. ‘I’ve been making plans,’ he murmured, ‘but they depend on circumstances out of my control, although I shall attempt to scupper any opposition.’
‘Your divorce?’
‘It’s too soon, but I’ve met my lawyers and apprised them of the situation. They’ve told me that divorce proceedings to make the marriage null and void, from decree nisi to absolute, will take approximately eighteen months to complete. Marion and her … paramour, Samuel Ellis, will be arriving in Canada any day now. They travelled separately on the ship, I understand, so as not to precipitate any scandal, but will take the train together to their destination, wherever that might be. I didn’t enquire,’ he added, ‘and therefore will not be able to answer any questions from any parents, hers or mine.’
‘Are you bitter?’ she asked.
‘No!’ he exclaimed. Taking off his hat, he threw it in the air and caught it. ‘I am not, or at least only for the lost unhappy years.’
She laughed. He managed somehow to be able to rise above any trouble or difficulty, or at least not to show them. And yet he was sensitive towards others’ anxieties and not indifferent to their fears – not even, apparently, to those of his wife.
The letter which was waiting for her was from Arthur, with an invitation to pay a weekend visit to his Derbyshire home.
Might I request that you bring our precious boy with you? And as I have also invited your friend Miss Robinson, I would like to ask your friend Dawson if he would be so kind as to be my guest and escort you both. I will of course send the carriage to collect you and bring you home again.
Do say you will come, my dearest Delia. I long to have a fuller conversation with you and welcome you to my home. I wish to introduce you to my mother, and you must promise me that you won’t be nervous of her and her acid tongue.
I look forward to hearing from you soon telling me of a suitable date.
Your ever loving friend, Arthur Crawshaw.
She knocked on Giles’s door to tell him of the invitation. ‘Will you come?’ she asked.
They went downstairs into the residents’ lounge to discuss dates, and Giles said he’d be pleased to accompany them. He suggested the weekend after the next one and put forward the idea that she should travel to Paull during the coming weekend to make arrangements.
‘I’ll write to Jenny,’ she said excitedly, ‘and ask if she’s free.’
But there was a note from Jenny in the afternoon post to say that she had received Arthur’s invitation and suggested the same weekend.
‘I rather think that Jenny received her invitation first,’ Delia mused thoughtfully to Giles. ‘For how has she replied so quickly?’
‘Do you mind?’ Giles asked.
‘Mind?’ Delia looked up. ‘Not in the least. In fact,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘I think they’d make a very good couple. They are both quite self-centred, both enlightened and educated people, and I think if anyone could hold Arthur to account it would be Jenny.’ Then she laughed. ‘But I don’t think there’s much chance of that, more’s the pity. She told me she was a dyed-in-the-wool spinster and wouldn’t ever marry.’
Qui
zzically he raised his eyebrows. ‘So he wouldn’t be the man for you, Delia? Not even after your long friendship?’
‘No. Ours was a completely platonic friendship, which is all I’ve ever had with any man.’ She spoke without thinking, nor did she notice the easing of tension in his glance. ‘I first met Arthur when Jack – Robin – was little and beginning to get into mischief. When he was a baby, and then a toddler, everyone kept an eye on him when I was on stage, the women and the men; he was such a sweet and adorable child. I wasn’t the only one to think that,’ she added, when she spotted his wry grin. ‘Occasionally the women would take him shopping with them whilst I was in a rehearsal or a matinee and he’d come back with a new toy, but when he got to be three he sometimes escaped and toddled off backstage on his own to talk to the stage hands. And one evening I’d left him sleeping in the dressing room and during my last song I heard the audience laughing. I wondered why, and then one or two people began to clap and say Aw; and when I looked round there was Robin on stage, wandering towards me in his nightgown and rubbing his eyes.’
She put her fingers to her lips as she recalled the memory. ‘He put his arms up for me to pick him up, which I did, while I kept on singing; it was “Scarborough Fair”, which I often sang to him at bedtime. He put his cheek against mine and so I sang it to him, and then to the audience’s delight he began singing it too. He knew all the words.’
She laughed. ‘It was the best ovation I’ve ever received, and I put him down and without any prompting he bowed to the audience and they went wild, standing up and clapping, whistling and cheering.’
‘And a star was born,’ he murmured.
She brushed away a tear. ‘It was fine for just that once, but then I began to worry that he might wander outside and get lost. It was about then that Arthur joined the company and took an interest in him; he began to think of things that Robin could do so that he thought he was part of the company. He asked the ticket office for old ticket stubs and taught him how to count them and put them into sets of colours; and then he began to teach him to read. By the time he was four he could do simple additions and read short words.’ She sighed. ‘I have many reasons to be grateful to Arthur, for his friendship and advice, but mainly for his interest in Robin.’
Giles nodded. ‘You and Robin obviously brought out the best in him,’ he said. ‘On first meeting he doesn’t seem like the fatherly type.’
‘He doesn’t, does he? But he took a great interest in Robin and that’s why he refers to him as our boy. And I trusted him completely.’
Jenny called the next day on her way home from school; she was dressed in a plain skirt and jacket and a neat hat with a feather, and Delia could tell that she was full of suppressed excitement.
‘How lovely that Arthur has invited us all to stay at his house,’ Delia said. ‘I’m really looking forward to it. I wonder what we should wear?’
‘Well, it’s a country estate, isn’t it?’ Jenny said. ‘South of Sheffield and north of Derby. I looked on a map,’ she said nonchalantly. ‘Just to ascertain its whereabouts. So something practical, I should think.’
‘Do you think it will be very grand? I only have plain gowns or my stage ones.’
‘One of each then,’ Jenny said. ‘Why not take that lovely red gown that you wore at Christmas? You could wear that for dinner. We’re only there for the Saturday so you won’t need anything more. We’ll be leaving after Sunday lunch.’
‘Yes,’ Delia said thoughtfully. ‘It’s a long way to go for such a short stay.’
She wondered why Arthur had asked them for such a short visit and then thought that he was taking into account not only her theatre schedule and Giles’s, but Jenny’s and Robin’s school schedules too; then she speculated that perhaps it was because of his mother, whose sharp tongue might be best served in small doses.
‘It is to introduce us to his mother,’ Jenny said casually, and Delia noticed that her cheeks had flushed. ‘That is what Arth—Mr Crawshaw said. He has been to Hull again,’ she admitted, giving a nervous swallow and lowering her eyes. ‘I have joined him twice for dinner.’
‘Jenny!’ Delia breathed. ‘Oh, I’m so pleased.’
‘We get along very well,’ Jenny admitted, and allowed a smile to slip out. ‘It is a very strange sensation for me, Delia. I never thought that – never thought I would meet someone who understood me in the way that he appears to – you know, encouraging me to express my views, taking them seriously, and he does,’ she said, as if astonished.
‘Perfect!’ Delia said. ‘You’ll be just right for one another.’
‘I haven’t met his mother yet,’ Jenny countered, and then added, ‘But he can choose whoever he wants for a wife. He says he is his own master.’ She hesitated. ‘Nothing is cut and dried, Delia. It’s too soon.’
Delia’s new managerial post wasn’t to start until the following week; the theatre was being cleared after the pantomime and the stage needed repairs, so she decided that she would travel to Paull on Friday as Giles had suggested. She asked if he would like to come too and meet Robin. ‘You could stay in the Hedon Arms, perhaps; it’s not far from Paull. A nice walk,’ she told him.
He hesitated at first, not wanting to intrude, and then agreed, so she immediately sent a postcard to the Robinsons and mentioned that she would like to bring a friend to meet Robin.
Robin was out of school so he accompanied Aaron to meet them off the train. Aaron and Giles shook hands on introduction and then Giles put out his hand to Robin as if he were an adult too. He told him that he had heard much about him and asked how he was settling down to country life after living in towns and cities.
‘I’ve had quite a peripatetic life until recently,’ Robin said earnestly, and Aaron glanced at him in astonishment and gave a gentle shake of his head, as if to say he might never quite get a grasp of this boy. ‘But I like living in the country very much indeed. I feel very settled and I like school and being with other children.’
Then he frowned a little and took hold of his mother’s hand. ‘I miss Mother, of course, but I realize that she has to earn a living; when I’m older and can work I can maybe earn enough money to help her. But she does like singing and being on stage, don’t you, Mother? What do you do, sir? Are you a performer too?’
‘I am,’ Giles said, his mouth twitching. ‘I’m a musician. A violinist. I have often played for your mother’s performances.’
‘Oh, I’m so pleased,’ Robin enthused. ‘And I’m very glad that my mother has a friend she can talk to, because, you know,’ he lowered his voice confidentially as if Delia weren’t there, ‘I think she gets very lonely sometimes.’
Giles nodded and answered gravely, ‘Yes, I understand that, Robin; sometimes theatreland can be a very lonely place. But I assure you that I will do my best to counter that.’
Robin then proceeded to advise Giles on the function of the various buildings they passed in Hedon. He pointed out the church and the police station and the Sun Inn where he had first met the Robinson family, and glanced up cheekily at his mother. Then he confessed to Giles that that was where he had decided to change his name and explained why, and Aaron squinted round at Delia and again wryly shook his head.
Robin was first out of the cart. The dog raced towards him and he bent down to pet him. Aaron took hold of the old horse’s snaffle, and Giles had just held out his hand to Delia to help her down when there was the crack of a gunshot. Betsy jibbed, the dog sped back towards the house and Delia clung to Giles’s hand, her nails digging into his palm and her face suddenly pale.
‘What on earth …’ Giles began, but Aaron said, ‘Don‘t worry, it’s just an idiot of a neighbour shooting rats, I expect. I’ll have his hide afore long,’ he muttered in an undertone. ‘He forgets there are bairns about after school.’
‘He shoots rats?’ Giles asked. ‘He must be a good shot.’ He could feel Delia’s trembling hand in his.
‘Aye, I reckon,’ Aaron mumbled. He avoided looking at
Delia and ushered them all inside where Peggy was standing by the range with her mass of hair tucked under a white cap, tying the strings of her apron around her waist. A little girl was sitting beneath the table looking at a book and didn’t acknowledge them.
Peggy looked up at her guests and said, ‘Delia, are you all right? You look very pale.’
Giles ushered Delia towards a chair, then turned to Peggy and put out his hand. He grinned and said, ‘A rifle shot to welcome our arrival rather startled us. How do you do? I’m Giles Dawson. Delighted to meet you.’
Peggy put out a clean but floury hand. She immediately liked this man. ‘A gunshot?’ she said. ‘At this time of day? I didn’t hear it.’
‘Rats, Aaron said,’ Delia told her in a trembling voice. ‘Sorry, Peggy. Forgive my manners.’ She couldn’t explain that the sound of the gunshot had brought back dark memories of her father cleaning his rifle and looking at her through narrow eyes as if warning her to beware that it might not only be rats and wildfowl that he aimed at; and she knew with certainty by the long-tailed bodies in the yard, and the mallards, wigeon and teal that hung on a nail outside the door, that he was an accurate and crack shot.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Peggy had made a light lunch of chicken soup, cold meat, pork pie and pickles with warm bread fresh out of the oven. Molly came out from under the table to eat with them; then Aaron and Robin took Giles along the river bank into the village and told him the history of Paull, how since the time of Henry VIII there had been defences to protect the town of Hull, and Aaron promised that the next day, if Giles was interested, they would walk up to the fort which was still manned in case of invasion and show him the high earthen ramparts that protected the cannons and battery.
As they walked towards the long village street Aaron suggested that Giles might care to stay at the Crown Inn that night rather than travel back to Hedon, and Giles immediately went in and booked a room, then bought Aaron and himself a pint of ale and Robin a glass of lemonade.
