by Polly Heron
After a flurry of goodbyes, the others hurried away, leaving Belinda looking forlorn. Gabriel’s heart reached out to her, but he felt a surge of joy too – and nerves. This was his moment.
‘I have to get home,’ she said.
‘May I accompany you as far as Limits Lane?’ He immediately struck up a conversation so as not to give her an opportunity to refuse. ‘Where is your sister living?’
She fell in step. ‘At End Cottage. She’s sharing my room. It’s a terrible squeeze, but it’ll bring us closer… in more ways than one.’ She laughed. ‘Sarah wants to go to the business school. We hope she can be the next scholarship pupil. She’s a chambermaid in a hotel, but she’s decided she wants to work in the office and perhaps be a receptionist one day.’
‘Good for her.’ What was he doing, talking about the younger sister? He wanted to talk about Belinda, about his feelings, but nerves got the better of him and all he asked was, ‘Have you seen any positions to apply for?’
‘I’m going to write some applications this afternoon. Miss Hesketh has kindly agreed to recommend me and you have too, of course.’ She glanced shyly at him.
‘It’s the least I can do – and only what you deserve.’ He couldn’t have her thinking he was providing the reference out of guilt. ‘I may not have known you long, but I can vouch for how efficient and reliable you are, not to mention being punctual and hard-working.’ Shut up, shut up. That isn’t what you say to the girl you want to marry.
They continued on their way, his praise having killed the conversation stone dead. He cast about for something else to say.
‘Have you seen my uncle’s cottage since the fire?’
‘No. I can’t help noticing you call him “my uncle” now. You used to refer to him as Mr Tyrell.’
‘It seemed only polite, since I couldn’t remember him. To call him Uncle Reg would have felt presumptuous.’
‘Uncle Reg?’ She smiled.
‘He was a bit grumpy, but good at heart. He and Aunt Victoria had no family of their own, so they always took an interest in my brother and me.’
‘He must have thought well of you to make you his heir.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. He knew now why Uncle Reg hadn’t removed his name from the will.
‘It’s a good job I’ve got Victoria’s nephews,’ he had said once. ‘I’m not keen on my own. Out for what he can get, is Richard. I’m leaving all my worldly goods to you and Frank. Only if you both predecease me will anything go to Richard.’
Later, after Frank was killed, Uncle Reg had told Gabriel on his next leave, ‘I’ve changed my will and left the lot to you. I’m not changing it again, my boy, so you’d better make sure you stay alive. I’ve kept Richard in, because he’s the sort to contest the will if he’s left out, but by keeping him as first reserve, as it were, he can’t claim he was overlooked.’
All that, however, was a private matter, to be shared with no one. It gave Gabriel a warm feeling to know he had been valued by Uncle Reg. Mr Sowerby had once been sharp with him for suggesting sharing the inheritance with Carson. Now he knew Uncle Reg would also have had a few pertinent words to say on the subject.
What was he doing, thinking of Richard Carson? The man was like a burr, clinging to his brain. Here he was, with the girl of his dreams, and he had talked about her job prospects, her sister and Uncle Reg. ‘Tell her how you feel,’ William Turton had advised. But suppose he did and it was the end of everything.
At the corner of Limits Lane, she stopped. They had come all this way and he hadn’t said his piece.
‘Come and see the cottage.’
‘I don’t think I want to. I’ve had dreams about it.’
‘I’m not surprised after what you and your family went through. The mind is a funny thing. Mine shut down my memory after the fire in France and then it allowed my memory to wake up again after this fire. If you’re having bad dreams, seeing the cottage as it is now might help your mind to accept that what happened is over and done with.’
They walked down the lane. Beside him, she slowed. He opened the gate and waited for her. She stood a short distance away, peering through. Her colour had fled.
‘If you hadn’t arrived when you did…’
‘But I did, so you and I together got your family to safety. Try not to think of the alternative.’
‘When you said you were going to clear the land, I thought you must be mad. I thought you might as well chuck your money down the drain. But now, seeing this… You’re right. I want what’s left of the cottage, and all those memories, swept away for ever.’ She lifted her chin. ‘If my family had died, it would have been my fault for bringing them here.’
‘No. The fire was the fault of the person who committed arson.’
‘If I could get my hands on them…’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t bring you here to upset you. I brought you to… to…’
‘Yes?’
Leaving the gate to swing shut, he went to her, walking round her so that, in turning to face him, she had her back to the cottage.
‘I didn’t want you to come here at all. It merely provided me with an excuse to walk with you. Miss Layton – Belinda…’ It had been so easy when he did this with Naomi. There had been no doubt on either side. ‘Ever since I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I know I don’t stand a chance.’ Don’t say that, you fool. What if she agrees? ‘I know there’s someone else you’re interested in.’
Her lips parted. He had to say something quickly before she could cut him off. My point is, Linkworth, that you may not be her first love, but what of it, so long as you are her lasting love? And all at once, the panic subsided and he knew what to say.
He caught her hands in his, fingertips holding fingertips.
‘Belinda Layton, I love you. I tried not to, because I saw your interest in Carson, but I couldn’t help it. You’re clever and kind and you think of everybody else before yourself. I saw Mr Turton today and he said something about first love and lasting love. I’ve been so preoccupied by your possible feelings for Carson that it made me forget he isn’t your first love. Your first love was your fiancé, that brave chap who gave his life for his country. You aren’t a helpless girl to be scrapped over. You’re an independent young woman, with a sense of responsibility, and you’ve shown your mettle at every turn. I can imagine no greater honour than to be your lasting love; and so, even though I honestly can’t tell what you think of me, even though I know that Richard Carson dazzles you, I’m going to say: forget him and marry me. I will cherish you and do my best for your family. I’ll work hard and one day we’ll run a bookshop together. It’ll take time, because I haven’t any money. All I have is the books to stock a shop I can’t afford to run. But that’s just for now. Mr Turton has found me a decent job and I’ll work hard and save up. Running a bookshop is my dream – one of my dreams. My other dream is running that bookshop with you.’ He dropped to one knee. ‘Will you marry me, Belinda? Or at least give a chance. Say you’ll think about it.’
Her eyes were starry. Well, that would be the surprise, of course. Or possibly confusion. Her lips parted. That wasn’t a good sign. An immediate response wasn’t a good sign.
‘I don’t need to think about it.’
Of course not. An instant no.
‘Yes,’ she breathed.
Elation almost drained his body of power, but he lurched to his feet. ‘Yes, you’ll think about it?’ He wanted to dance her up the lane and back again. She was going to consider him, give him a chance to prove himself.
‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’
‘Say it again. Say it a thousand times.’
But she didn’t get the chance. He leaned down – she was tiny, only a whisper above five foot – and took her face gently in his hands before he kissed her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
BELINDA PICKED UP Ben’s photograph, her fingers trailing over the black crêpe and the red poppy. Darling Ben. Her first love.
Not so long ago, she had expected to love him for ever, and in a way, she would. But her life had moved on and now a new man occupied her heart. Not Richard Carson. He had never set foot in her heart. He had been a mad fling, her emotions having bats in the belfry. She shook her head, casting him aside for ever.
It was Gabriel who mattered now. Her love for him was real and lasting. She had to tell Auntie Enid and Grandma Beattie, but first she had to tell Ben. How handsome he was, with his dark hair and dark eyes, looking serious in his photograph. And yet he hadn’t been a serious person. He had been lively and full of fun. And a hugger. When he had hugged Grandma Beattie and Auntie Enid, they had pretended to bat him away, but really they had loved it. She had loved it too. Her own family wasn’t affectionate and she had tingled all over every time Ben had held her hand or given her a cuddle; not just because she was attracted to him, but because she adored the closeness, the warmth of two people showing they cared. After he went away and never returned, the hugging had stopped. Was Gabriel a hugger? It didn’t matter if he wasn’t, because she intended to be and he would learn.
Pressing her finger to her lips, she kissed it, then pressed the kiss onto Ben’s photograph. She felt no sense of conflict. She could carry him in her heart at the same time as loving Gabriel.
It was time to go down and tell Ben’s mother and grandmother.
She descended the dark staircase. Grandma Beattie was beside the range, patting herby dumplings into shape on the bread board while Auntie Enid applied lavender polish and elbow grease to their old dresser.
She ignored the nerves in her tummy. ‘Come and sit down. I’ve got something to tell you.’
They joined her at the table.
Here goes. ‘It’s… it’s Ben.’
A ripple passed through the other two, a quiet resettling of shoulders, thoughts, feelings.
‘You know how much I loved him and that I’ve mourned him as deeply as you have.’
‘Aye, love, we know,’ said Auntie Enid. ‘It’s such a comfort to us.’
Maybe she shouldn’t have started with Ben, but how else was she to do justice to this situation? She had to tell them straight out. She mustn’t appear ashamed.
‘Mr Linkworth and me… we want to walk out together.’
Their mouths fell open. Grandma Beattie’s double chin wobbled as she gulped. Auntie Enid’s face paled and then flushed. Then, against Belinda’s every expectation, she laughed.
‘Don’t be silly. He saved your family from that fire, which was very brave, and you’re grateful and you admire him, but that’s all it is. It’s not real feelings.’
‘It isn’t gratitude.’
‘Yes, it is. It’s not real, not compared to your feelings for Ben.’ She gazed at Belinda with a pained stare.
‘It started before the fire,’ said Belinda.
‘Behind us backs?’ Grandma Beattie exclaimed.
‘No.’ She tried to sound firm, but her heart was pounding. ‘We had feelings for each other, but neither of us said a word until today.’ Today. See, you are being informed immediately. ‘We – we love one another.’
‘I knew it,’ said Grandma Beattie. ‘I knew nowt good would come of you leaving the mill and going to that business school.’
‘You told me you were glad I’d have a better future.’
‘Aye – in an office. Not putting yourself about, looking for a man.’
‘I haven’t put myself about—’
‘Fancy leaving our Ben high and dry.’
‘Ben will always be dear to me, but I’ve…’ It was a moment before the words would come. ‘I’ve moved on. It’s the same as wanting to wear some colour.’
‘It most certainly isn’t!’ Auntie Enid leaned forward, eyes glinting. ‘Comparing a coloured scarf to walking out with a new fellow – how dare you?’
‘So that’s it, then,’ said Grandma Beattie. ‘We lost our Ben when he didn’t come home from the war and now we’ve lost him all over again, because his fiancée has “moved on”. There’s nowt more to be said, really, is there?’
Belinda didn’t go to church with Auntie Enid and Grandma Beattie. She had arranged with Mum to attend St Clement’s in Chorlton, because that was where the orphanage children went. She felt torn. She ought to be with Auntie Enid and Grandma Beattie to show she was still part of their little family, but she also needed to be with her other family, to create a feeling of togetherness; herself, Mum and the two boys, coming from different addresses, but going to the same church service. Two boys, not three. She wanted to feel a sense of good riddance at Thad’s removal, but she was too shocked that such drastic action had been taken.
She stood outside the church, wishing for Sarah’s presence, but Sarah had taken on extra shifts to earn more money.
As she waited, she saw Miss Hesketh and Miss Patience coming along the road. She smiled politely at them, but didn’t want to presume. Then Mum arrived. She wanted to tell Mum her news about Gabriel, but Mum kept looking over her shoulder, so she kept it to herself for now and joined Mum in gazing down the road for the orphans. A crocodile appeared, headed by an adult, with another at the far end. Beside her, Mum stirred and brightened. Mikey and Jacob smiled and nodded as they went past, but there was no time for more. No time for mothers and sisters of non-orphans to have a hug and a few words, no time for a mother to produce a hanky with an order to spit, before scrubbing away at a grubby face. Not that Mikey and Jacob or any of the children looked grubby or crumpled. Dressed in their sober uniforms, they looked neat and clean and all the same, the boys in grey shirts, shorts and jackets, the girls’ grey capes shifting as they walked to reveal glimpses of white pinafores over grey dresses.
It was no different when they left at the end of the service. Belinda and Mum had sat near the back of the church for a quick getaway in the hope of a minute with the boys when they came out, but the orphans walked out in twos and didn’t stop until they reached the kerb. A young woman led them across the road and a man brought up the rear.
‘It’s the way things are going to be,’ said Mum. ‘I’ll have to get used to it.’ She sounded in control, almost flippant, but her mouth twisted. Was she cursing Dad?
She had to hurry off to do the vegetables and serve the Morgans’ dinner. Belinda hadn’t expected that.
‘But I’ve got something to tell you,’ she tried to say.
‘It’ll have to wait. Tell me next time.’
And she hurried off. Not even a goodbye kiss. Belinda stared after her.
‘You look taken aback, if I may say so,’ said a gentle voice.
‘Oh – Miss Patience. I was hoping for a word with Mum, but she had to get back. I’ve got something important to tell her.’
‘A new job?’
‘No.’ She held her breath for a moment. ‘I’m engaged. To Gabriel – Mr Linkworth.’
‘I thought you liked Mr Carson.’ Miss Patience’s eyes widened. ‘I do apologise.’
‘And you call me tactless,’ remarked Miss Hesketh.
‘Many congratulations, my dear,’ said Miss Patience. ‘This is unexpected, but very happy news nonetheless.’
But Miss Hesketh was all reserve. ‘I wish you well, obviously, but it’ll be a shame to see your new skills going to waste.’
‘They won’t! We can’t get married for some time. Gabriel needs to save up – we both do – and eventually we’ll rent another shop to sell the books.’
‘In that case,’ said Miss Hesketh, ‘there’s a job going at the funeral parlour. The paperwork has to be accurate, as you can appreciate, and you have a quiet, respectful manner that – what’s the matter?’
‘I’ve just told you I’m engaged and your response is to tell me about a job.’
‘Well, you still need one.’
‘She wants us to be happy about her engagement,’ said Miss Patience, ‘don’t you, dear? And we are, even if my sister has an unconventional way of showing it. Who else have you told?’
‘Auntie Enid and
Grandma Beattie – and they were desperately hurt.’
‘Ah,’ breathed Miss Patience.
All the disappointment she had kept bottled up since yesterday afternoon came pouring out. ‘They want me to carry on living a life of mourning with them. They think I’m betraying Ben.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Miss Patience.
‘It’s difficult for you,’ said Miss Hesketh. ‘And now you must excuse us. Patience, we should be getting home.’
Belinda stepped aside. ‘Of course. Thank you for telling me about the position at the funeral parlour. I’ll certainly apply for it. And thank you for your good wishes.’ They had given her their good wishes, hadn’t they?
She trailed home. She was going to see Gabriel this afternoon, but instead of being able to tell him jubilantly of Mum’s joy, there would be no enthusiasm to offset the grim reaction in End Cottage. Auntie Enid and Grandma Beattie would spend the afternoon feeling betrayed and abandoned.
But she wasn’t going to let it stop her.
‘It’s rather seedy, isn’t it?’ said Prudence as they walked the length of Grave Pit Lane. ‘Miss Layton has done well for herself.’
‘I hope you aren’t suggesting that’s why she has attached herself to Mr Linkworth,’ said Patience, shocked.
‘Actually, I was referring to her commitment to better herself through professional training.’
‘Do you think we’re doing the right thing?’ The closer they drew to End Cottage, the more nervous Patience felt.
Prudence dealt her a sideways glance. ‘It was your idea.’
‘I know, but one doesn’t like to interfere. Is it interfering to the help the course of true love?’
‘If you’re going to talk twaddle, I’ll turn round and go home.’
At End Cottage, the younger Mrs Sloan let them in. There was no sign of Miss Layton, which was probably for the best. The older Mrs Sloan heaved herself off the battered old sofa.
‘Please sit here, ladies,’ she offered.
‘Don’t let us disturb you,’ said Patience. ‘I’m sure the two of you were comfortably settled for the afternoon. My sister and I are quite happy to sit at the table.’
