‘Greg! What are you doing here?’
‘I want to buy a necklace – for my mother. What do you recommend, Miss Conelly?’ he added, ostentatiously reading the name on her label.
‘Go away!’
‘Rhinestone necklaces are pretty. They pick up the light and sparkle, don’t they? Show me some of those, Miss ... Conelly,’ he said, again pretending to read her name from her badge.
‘They’re very expensive, sir.’
He stared at her, shuffling his feet as though impatient. Rose saw the floor walker approaching and hurriedly took a tray from below the glass counter.
‘Meet me after work or I’ll come back tomorrow and make a fuss,’ he whispered. ‘Now, give me a rhinestone brooch; I think my mother would prefer a brooch. D’you agree?’
‘All right. I finish today at four. Meet me at the main door.’
‘You will be there?’
‘I promise.’ The transaction on the brooch completed he walked away to wait until she was free. He didn’t really trust her but she knew that if he came tomorrow and asked about her there was a good chance she would be embarrassed, so he hoped she realized he meant it and would be there.
He wasn’t under the illusion that she would be going home with him; she had so determinedly cut him off he couldn’t imaginee being able to trust her again. He just had to know why she had run away. The story about someone else didn’t ring true. She had changed from the moment she had been introduced to his parents. Something had been said at that meeting which made her leave him. But what could it have been? There were no secrets in the family: then he remembered about the missing money and the shock of his father’s will and wondered. But how could anything his father had done be connected with Rose Conelly?
At 4.15, when he was just beginning to give up, she appeared.
With a nervous smile she guided him to a small café in a side road and ordered coffee for them both. Greg changed his to tea. Had she forgotten his preference already? He added sandwiches and a couple of cakes to the order and they sat in silence for it to arrive.
‘Just tell me why you ran away,’ he asked. ‘That’s all I want to know.’ She didn’t reply and he added, ‘If you’ve found some one else, I can live with that. Just tell me and I’ll go.’
‘I’m not ready to marry. That’s all, Greg. I was happy as your friend but I don’t want anything more.’
‘Tell me the truth.’ His voice was low and harsh.
‘That is the truth.’
‘All right, I’ll call into the shop tomorrow.’
‘Please, Greg.’
‘Tell me the truth and I’ll leave you alone.’ He looked at her and was alarmed to see tears forming and fear filling her eyes.
‘There are things about me that you don’t know. I can’t marry. Not anyone. But especially you. Please, go away. I don’t want to change jobs again, but I will if you don’t promise to leave me alone.’
‘Where were you living when you pretended to live in the house where I left you every night?’
‘A single room, a place I didn’t want you to see.’
‘Why didn’t you trust me? You must know I’d never hurt you and your secrets will stay with me forever. Just tell me. I can help you to sort them out.’
She excused herself, went to the ladies room and didn’t come back. He waited for half an hour then joined Zena and Jake at the theatre. They all went home the following day, Zena chatting happily and Greg insisting he’d had a wonderful day with Rose.
‘What d’you think of surprising Mam with a birthday party?’ Greg suggested, as they left the station. ‘Christmas was such a disaster and inviting a few friends to celebrate her birthday and the end of rationing at last might cheer her up. Specially if we can persuade Aunty Mabs to come.’ Both events might have gone unnoticed at Llyn Hir, the lack of excitement, the lethargy that had held the family since the death of Ronald and the shock of his will, seemed to have deadened every emotion.
Zena agreed and promised to try and persuade Mabs to share the planning. She had no success. Mabs was firmly convinced that their mother was responsible for the loss of the money.
Life for the Martins seemed to exist of a succession of days without plans for the months ahead. ‘It’s as though we are stuck in a time warp,’ Zena said to her brother.
‘Let’s do something completely different for Mam’s birthday then,’ he suggested. ‘More low key. She’d hate a big celebration, it would have the opposite effect than the one we were hoping for. We could go on a picnic, or have sausages and chips instead of a roast.’
All suggestions of a celebration received the same response from Lottie. She shrugged and said, ‘Please yourselves.’
Mabs was unhelpful and made it clear that she would not be involved with the birthday arrangements.
‘Aunty Mabs, you can’t carry on like this. I can’t believe Mam did anything so terrible that Dad could treat her so badly. You saw them over the months he was in hospital, holding hands, talking with affection and love. How can you believe she did something to deserve this? It might have been a misunderstanding or someone repeating untrue gossip, but whatever she did or didn’t do, you need each other. You’re both grieving for Dad.’
‘Change the subject, there’s a love. I can’t think about it.’
Zena and Greg went ahead with the plan but the day was not a success. Even the weather had been against them with a cold wind blowing and rain drifting past the windows and they were glad to light the fire and enjoy its warmth. After they had eaten the roast meal and Sam and Neville – the only guests – had gone back to the farm, Zena looked at her mother who was staring into the coals wearing that sad and weary expression that seemed never to leave her. Opposite her on the other side of the flickering fire sat Greg, almost a mirror image of her misery. She felt the same. It was as though a shroud of gloom covered them all.
The radio hummed in the background and conversation failed to rouse Lottie out of her misery. At eight o’clock, Greg looked at Zena and gave a shrug. ‘I think I’ll go to see Aunty Mabs. Coming, Zena? Mam?’
Lottie said she was going to bed, Zena snuggled on the couch with a blanket and prepared to stay.
In London, Rose had changed her job and her accommodation. She didn’t mention it either to Madeleine or Jake; she just moved and hoped they wouldn’t find her. She had to keep right away from everyone she knew. Knowing Greg could appear at any time had unnerved her. The move wasn’t an improvement. She had found a vacancy in a quality shoe shop – but nothing like any she had worked in before. This one was spacious but with fewer items on display. Each of the many types of footwear and various makes had their own department. The assistants were aloof, unfriendly and the customers were much the same and this suited her perfectly. The money was less but she felt safer in the anonymity of the store. She had moved to a different flat but not far, and was aware she was only a few streets away from Jake.
She grieved for Greg and the life he offered but knew she could never change her mind. Although it was ruining her life, she had to hold the secret safe. If she told him her story, everyone would soon know.
Jake saw her one day as he walked back to his flat but although he recognized her he didn’t call out. He watched as she disappeared into a large house that had been converted into bedsits and flats. From what he’d heard from Zena and Greg, she was running away in the hope of never being found, so best to pretend he hadn’t seen her.
He told Madeleine about the girl, wishing he could do something to cheer her. ‘She has some secret which she believed will stop her marrying, according to Zena. What that secret can be I have no idea, but it must be something truly awful for her to give up on marriage to Greg.’
‘She’ll probably spend Christmas all on her own, in a bedsit where it’s possible there are no facilities even to make a slice of toast,’ Madeleine said sadly. ‘What a pity you’re committed to spending those special days with Zena and her family. They have each oth
er and poor Rose has no one.’
‘She won’t join us, so it’s no use asking. She refuses to see Greg.’
‘If you didn’t have to go to Cold Brook Vale, I could invite her to spend the days with us, you, me and Rose.’ She smiled and coaxed, ‘And I cook a very good dinner.’
‘You’re so thoughtful, Madeleine. If only—’
‘If only we could think of an excuse to make it possible. What a wonderful surprise it would be for poor Rose. Isn’t there any chance, Jake?’
They set off together to find her, Jake guiding them to the building he had seen Rose enter. They were smiling in anticipation of Rose’s delight when they told her of their plans for her.
Jake came home occasionally and Greg took the new conductress Susie Crane out a few times but at Llyn Hir, nothing changed. The three occupants spoke to each other less and less. There seemed nothing to say that didn’t remind them of the lethargy and disappointment in their lives.
Summer passed and autumn brought its beauty as well as the warning that winter was on its way, with leaves falling, dahlias in the garden bringing splashes of colour which Lottie failed to notice. Fireworks, Halloween and early signs of Christmas began to appear.
There weren’t the usual signs of preparation. No puddings made, or cake planned. The shelves that were usually filled with assorted pickles lay empty. Lottie had no interest in anything.
With determination, Zena began making plans. Jake would be home and Greg had hopes of inviting Susie to visit. She was so bright and cheerful, surely she would succeed in reaching out to Lottie and making her come alive again?
Zena was surprised to receive a letter from Jake telling her he might not be home as planned. He said that with appointments in France and Belgium, he didn’t know when he’d be home, but would let her know. She gave a wail of disappointment, then telephoned the office. Madeleine answered and explained that Jake was out of the office adding nothing more. Zena then wrote to him at the office, telling him that if he wasn’t there for Christmas Eve, he needn’t come at all. She marked the envelope ‘personal and private’. Madeleine read the letter, smiled and threw it in the bin.
Madeleine also tore up two Christmas cards: one from each of her parents. She didn’t even want such reminders in the flat to ruin Christmas by their false words.
It was at Christmas that she had found her mother with a man they called Uncle Jeremy. She had come home early from a friend’s house where she had been sent to stay the night, they were in bed and Madeleine, a twelve year old, had screamed, her mother had screamed and Uncle Jeremy hurriedly dressed and left.
Ignoring promises she had made to her mother in exchange for a new bicycle, she had told her father the moment he came home.
Her father had left immediately, her mother soon afterwards, and neither had invited her to go with them. Ironically, it was Uncle Jeremy’s wife who had taken her in, paid for her education and looked after her until she was old enough to manage on her own. Men are unreliable and women are fools, had been her attitude ever since.
Mabs did not want to share the family Christmas and she lied. She used the untruth that her dearest friend had died for that year’s reason for declining.
She decided she would stay in her flat. Or, she mused with a smile, perhaps she would open the café for a few hours. She would cook a dinner for those of her regulars who hadn’t been invited to any family gathering. When she casually mentioned the possibility, she was surprised just how many there were. ‘Not a word to Greg, mind,’ she warned them. ‘I don’t want him to come. His place is at home with his family.’
There were just one or two buses on Christmas morning to take workmen for their early shifts and, with such a strange uneasy mood in the house and an absence of any cheer, Greg happily volunteered.
Driving back to the depot to collect his bike and go home, he passed the café and was surprised to glimpse activity behind the drawn curtains. He went to the door and walked in. Aunty Mabs was carrying a huge platter of turkey slices into the kitchen and on the counter were piles of vegetables. Without a word he took the platter from her and carried it through, then began cutting up the vegetables ready for cooking.
‘Sorry, Greg. I hoped you wouldn’t find out. I didn’t want to involve you, but I liked the idea. When I asked, casual-like, if anyone was interested I was amazed at how many people would be on their own, so I decided to open up.’
‘I’ll go home to have dinner with the others but then I’ll come back,’ he promised.
‘I’m cooking for five o’clock, so there’s no rush. Most of them sleep during the day as you know.’
‘What a peculiar Christmas this is. Rose has vanished and will be all alone in a strange place. Jake hasn’t arrived as promised and, as he was given an ultimatum by Zena, it seems that now he never will. Mam is on the edge of tears and you are missing us and ruining your own Christmas as well as everyone else’s. Come back with me and we can eat whatever Mam has prepared and still be in plenty of time to cook for your old boys. We’ll get a taxi if we can, or Uncle Sam will bring us down in his van.’
‘I can’t, Greg, love. Not until your Mam tells me what happened between her and your father. He was my brother-in-law and I need to know what she did.’
‘Why Mam?’ he dared to ask. ‘Couldn’t it have been something Dad did? Perhaps he took a chance on a risky investment. He’d remortgaged the house yet died leaving large debts. Where did the money go? Some sort of gamble could be a more believable explanation, couldn’t it?’ Mabs didn’t reply and he said nothing more. He just helped her finish the preparations and set the tables, then walked her home.
Christmas lunch was a tense affair with any light-hearted humour painfully forced, and he was glad to make an excuse of visiting friends and go back to the café.
When the diners were gathered and were wearing silly hats provided by Mabs, Arthur walked in, the man whom they all thought had been sent to prison for burglary. Little Sid ran to stand in front of Mabs. ‘Sorry, mate, but this is a private party.’
‘It’s all right, Sid, he’s welcome.’ Mabs pointed to the empty chair at Sid’s table and grudgingly, Sid moved aside for him to sit.
Greg set a place for him and found one final cracker. ‘It was as if you’d known he’d come,’ he said to Mabs, who shrugged and said nothing.
‘We heard you was in prison,’ Sid whispered to the newcomer.
‘Yes, but I came out yesterday. I served my sentence all but a couple of days and I’m never going back.’
‘That’s what they all say,’ George muttered.
Arthur glanced to where Mabs was slicing more meat. ‘She made up my mind for me. Talked she did, while I was in prison, and what she said convinced me to stay on the straight and narrow. You can believe it or not, but that was the last time I go to prison.’
It was the most he had ever said and Sid and George stared in disbelief. ‘Our Frankie visited you in prison?’
‘Never!’ Sid gasped.
‘And not a word, right? She doesn’t want people to know.’
The visit from Mabs had released something in Arthur’s mind and he talked and laughed during those three hours, and took his turn at reading the silly jokes from the crackers just as the others did. Mabs whispered to Sid, ‘What sort of eyes has he today, Sid?’
‘It’s very strange, Frankie, they’re just blue. An ordinary blue!’
George shivered. ‘I still think he’s dangerous,’ he insisted.
Greg played cards with George and Sid and hesitantly Arthur agreed to join in. He was the first to leave and he thanked them all for their welcome and repeated his promise of going straight.
Greg thought later that serving dinner to eight men, listening to their reminiscences and pulling crackers and laughing at the silly jokes, had been the happiest part of the day.
‘Don’t worry,’ Mabs said, hugging him after the guests had gone. ‘Next year will be as Christmas should be, a special time that binds fam
ilies together, just like always.’
Greg smiled and silently hoped for a miracle.
On the day after Boxing Day Jake arrived in his car, loaded with gifts. Several had foreign labels and he explained that he had been shopping in strange towns, and how the language had confused him and he laughingly told them they would find a few unintended purchases among them. Then he looked at Zena and Greg and was startled at the cold expressions on their faces.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Where were you yesterday and the day before?’ Zena asked.
‘I told you. I wrote and told you I was held up and couldn’t get back. Travel wasn’t easy and I had to stay until late last night.’ He went to hug her but she stepped back and Greg put an arm around her shoulders protectively. ‘Zena, lovely girl, what’s the matter? I got off the boat, caught a train to London, rushed to the office and collected the car and came straight here. Why are you angry with me?’
‘I phoned the office and you weren’t there. That secretary didn’t know where you were, but said she’d tell you to ring me if you got in touch. Then I wrote. Don’t tell me you didn’t get the letter, I just won’t believe you.’
‘How could I get a letter? I was in France.’
‘Were you?’
‘What about showing us your passport, Jake?’ Greg asked, and Jake looked at Zena, his expression one of outrage. ‘I certainly won’t! I’m hurt if you don’t believe me. I don’t have to prove what I’m saying. You shouldn’t doubt me.’
Greg began to close the door but Zena stood back to let Jake step inside. In silence Greg helped him to bring in his case and parcels from the car.
The End of a Journey Page 11
