by Sheila Riley
‘Money is put aside, don’t you worry about that,’ Henry said, knowing that the money from the sale of land was now safely in the bank.
‘I’m not worried, my love,’ Meggie said, content in the knowledge her child would be well cared for and that the careworn expression, her husband could never quite shake off, might disappear now their money worries were not as demanding as they once were. ‘The future is mapped out from the day we are born, whether we like it or not.’ Meggie gave a low chuckle, gently extricating herself from her husband’s embrace when the kettle interrupted with a piercing whistle. ‘You love this yard, always have done,’ she said. ‘Your mother would never have kept this place going without you and if she’d found out about the baby we could never have been married.’
‘She was a hard woman, I’ll grant you, but times were hard back then.’ He didn’t like to speak ill of anybody, especially his own dead mother. He gave Meggie a smile that still caused a flutter in her stomach, curling his little finger round her little finger like he always did.
His simple gesture gave his Meggie courage, and as always he listened to her pour her heart out when she needed to talk about the short time she had spent with her much-loved baby. When she finished saying the words he had heard a million times before, she looked at her husband and smiled. ‘For a man who was shown little affection as a boy, you give so much.’
‘That is because you are so easy to adore, my Meg.’ His mother had been skinny with her affection. Any show of love was an anathema to her.
His rich, deep voice was laced with melancholy. ‘Ma used to say, let’s have none of that mushy stuff.’ He gazed past Meggie’s shoulder to the photograph of his mother in her later years. The sepia tones did nothing to soften the sunken features or the hard, beleaguered glare, nor the black clothes she wore for the rest of her life. ‘I would have stood up to her if you’d let me. Backed you all the way, told her about…’
‘You married me and made sure my child was well cared for,’ Meggie said, stretching her back and wrapping her loving arms round his strong shoulders. Drawing him closer to her, she kissed the top of his greying mane. ‘And gave me a proper home, the best I had ever known.’ All Meggie had known before she married Henry was work, to keep a roof over her head. ‘You paid a high price for marrying me and I will never be able to repay you.’
Henry would not worry Meggie by letting her know he was paying an extortionate amount of cold hard cash to keep her secret child’s existence hidden. She would be devastated, and he couldn’t bear to see that happen. His huge hands furled round her arms, holding her close.
And the look of regret in his compassionate eyes made Meggie’s heart lurch with love for him, when she said, ‘I may not have raised my child, but I’ve been luckier than most. You made sure of that.’
Seeming to shrink as she sat down, Meggie’s heart was torn in two by the desperate need to have her child by her side. Every week from the day she let him go, Meggie had paid another woman to take care of her own flesh and blood. The agony of not being able to love her child like a proper mother almost drove her to distraction. But she did not have the luxury of a choice.
‘You did your best, lass,’ Henry said, taking her hand across the table. ‘You needed to earn the money to feed and clothe the child, put a roof over both your heads. The situation was not ideal, I know…’
‘The stability of a proper family, wasn’t that as important?’ Rising, Meggie drew the warm air deep within her lungs, putting the flat of both hands on the table in that pragmatic way she had about her. ‘We are already halfway through the century. Let’s look forward, not back. New beginnings.’
Henry sighed and, with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he said, ‘I love you so much, Meggie Skinner, and be sure of one thing, when my time comes, your child will have security.’
Meggie’s eyes glistened with unshed tears and Henry stretched to his full six feet four inches.
‘Right, enough of this maudlin talk,’ he said briskly, ‘come over ’ere an’ give us a kiss…’ He smiled when Meggie melted into his arms, each lost in that loving world of their own.
Finishing historical figures up to February 1948 later that afternoon, Evie stood up and stretched her aching back. The door closed as she put the kettle on and waited for it to boil.
‘Danny’s taking orders out to Netherford tomorrow.’ Evie could hear Susie talking on the telephone, and wondered why she had not taken a job as a telephonist, the amount of time she spent talking to other clerks she knew. ‘…I always go with him, but a certain someone turned up and won’t let me out of the office.’ Susie was plainly peeved. ‘She runs this place like a bloody concentration camp, you should see all the extra work I have to do while she’s swanning round to the boss’s wife every five minutes.’
Evie stopped what she was doing.
‘Well, it’s not going to carry on much longer,’ Susie said, ‘I know what’s what about this place, and when I have a word with the boss’s wife, things are going to change round here. Queen Bee will be buzzing off back to her posh office in town!’
Evie had heard enough, and she opened the staffroom door to see Susie, wide-eyed, like a child caught with her hand in the biscuit tin. She quickly hung up, as if the receiver were hot.
‘Hello, Evie, I thought you’d gone out.’ There was a tell-tale quiver in Susie’s voice.
‘So I gathered,’ Evie’s tone was cool, ‘and what will you be having a word with Meggie about?’
‘I wasn’t talking about this place.’ Susie gave a high-pitched false laugh. ‘I was telling the customer about a play on the wireless.’
‘I thought it sounded familiar,’ Evie said with a knowing look. ‘Has Danny been in for the Netherford order list?’
‘Not yet,’ Susie answered. Then she said in a conversational manner that fooled nobody: ‘We used to have a spot of lunch in the little country inn along the way. And the farmer gave us extra rations, you know, butter, cheese, a nice bit of beef or a chicken, things like that.’
‘Aye, well there’s plenty of work for you to be getting on with. Invoices out and money in to pay the wages.’ Evie placed her cup and saucer on her desk and put her head down, concentrating on the accounts.
‘Don’t you think Danny would make some girl a lovely husband?’ Susie asked, breaking her already brittle concentration.
‘I’m here to work and so are you,’ Evie answered impatiently, ‘so I suggest you crack on.’ Honestly. Did that girl have anything inside her head beside fluffy white clouds?
‘Have you ever thought of actually going to New York, New York?’ Evie asked when, for the umpteenth time that afternoon, Susie strangled the tune she heard when she went to see her most favourite film: ‘On the Town’, which was sung by her most favourite American crooner: Frank Sinatra.
‘Wouldn’t that be fabulous,’ Susie breathed, ignoring Evie’s sardonic remark when the office door opened and Mr Skinner came in, filling the room with pipe tobacco smoke.
The aroma reminded Evie of Mr Walton and, just for a moment, she wished she had not left the brightly lit office for Susie Blackthorn’s constant chatter about the film stars she had seen on the Gaumont picture house, or singers she loved to listen to.
‘So, how are you finding the work, Evie?’ Skinner asked in that deep timbre that kept the men in line.
‘I’m getting to grips with it, Mr Skinner, but I need to have a word with you about one of the accounts,’ Evie said, unable to ask in front of Susie. She didn’t want to embarrass Mr Skinner with awkward questions, but if she had been brought in to balance the books, then there were some awkward questions that could not be avoided.
‘I know the one you mean,’ Henry lowered his voice so only she could hear. ‘You have done a sterling job. We’ll talk later.’ He didn’t wait for Evie to answer. Grimacing, he rubbed his barrel chest. ‘Susie, go and get something for this heartburn off Meggie, I’ll have a sup o’ tea, that ought to shift it a bit.’
‘Here, let me make it for you,’ Evie said, pulling out a chair to let him sit down. His face drained to the colour of wallpaper paste and she felt more than a twinge of concern. ‘You look a bit pale, Mr Skinner, do you want me to call the doctor?’
‘I’m not going to see that quack,’ Henry said, ‘he’s more interested in the dog.’ He scratched the head of his faithful hound and then said, as if the idea had just occurred to him, ‘While Susie’s out, could you do me the honour of countersigning this?’ He took an envelope out of his pocket and, grimacing, he held out an official-looking document, ‘I’d very much appreciate it.’
‘Certainly, Mr Skinner,’ Evie said, taking the document and picking up a pen. However, when she read the document, she saw it was his Will. And the chief beneficiary was not his wife Meggie, but there was no time to ask and it had nothing to do with her anyway, she was just a signatory. What Mr Skinner did with his business was his affair.
‘Meggie sent you this and said you have to go over to the house and rest,’ Jack said, coming in and handing over a box of bicarbonate of soda to Evie who mixed it with a little warm water from the kettle.
‘Did she now?’ Henry sounded distracted as Evie signed her name and, looking out of the window, saw Susie talking to Mrs Skinner
‘She’s giving the missus every detail.’
‘She’ll have me dead and buried that Susie, frightening the life out of my Meggie.’ He rubbed his chest. ‘Don’t be letting her pull the wool over your eyes, Evie,’ Henry warned, ‘she’s a sly fly-by-night.’
Moments later Susie came through the office door with such force the door hit the back wall.
‘I forgot those files had been tidied away,’ she told Evie as Jack left the office, ‘they usually stop the door hitting the wall.’
Henry stood up and then sat heavily back on the chair.
‘I can manage now Evie’s here, Mr Skinner,’ Susie said, and he raised his hand for her to be quiet.
‘I’ll just finish drinking this.’ He took a sip of the liquid and Susie rolled her eyes while Evie wondered why she was so reluctant to have the boss here in the office.
‘You’re still looking a bit pasty if you don’t mind me saying,’ Evie said as he wiped a clammy forehead. ‘Susie, go and fetch Meggie, she’ll know what to do.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ Henry pushed his handkerchief into the pocket of his corduroy trousers. ‘We’re made of strong stuff us Skinners.’
Susie took a slim packet of Woodbines from her bag and lit a cigarette, laying it in the groove of a Bakelite ashtray before rolling a sheet of paper into her typewriter while Evie noticed that, for as much as her movements were quick and business-like, Susie hardly did a tap of work all day, using a lot of energy making no progress whatsoever.
‘Meggie swears by a spoonful of bicarb in warm water,’ Henry said swigging back the remainder of the drink. ‘Works wonders for heartburn, better than all that fancy stuff.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to ring the doctor?’ Evie asked for the third time, sure he was not at all well.
‘I don’t need a doctor.’ Henry waved away her concern. ‘I’ll be as right as ninepence when this stuff does it’s magic.’ He stood and raised his empty cup. ‘Just a bit of indigestion, that’s all. And there’s no point worrying Meggie,’ he said, aiming the comment at Susie, ‘she’ll only fuss.’
‘We’re only thinking of your best interests, Mr Skinner,’ Susie said, but before he could reply, Evie heard him hit the chair with a thud. The legs creaking.
Her heart gave a little jump and scraping back her own chair, Evie hurried to him, his cup hanging from his index finger and his chin resting on his chest. Her scalp tingled when she heard Susie scream so loud it nearly took the roof off.
Hunching over, Evie could see his putty-coloured face at close range, and he made no attempt to answer when Evie implored, ‘Mr Skinner, Mr Skinner speak to me.’ She patted his cheek and poked his arm, but still there was no response. She looked at Susie, who, with a trail of black tears rolling down her cheeks, shrugged her shoulders.
Mr Skinner didn’t seem that old at close quarters, Evie thought absurdly as she tapped his shoulder. There was still no response. When she lifted his chin, his head flopped back.
Susie, her face devoid of all colour except for the red gash of crimson lips and the black pencilled eyebrows, exclaimed, ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph! He’s dead! I’ll go and fetch Danny and tell him Auld Skinner’s going to miss the Netherford parade.’
‘I’ll ring the ambulance and Connie.’ Evie practical as ever, watched Susie skid across the yard to get Danny, and her finger could not dial nine, nine, nine, fast enough. The new emergency system had been in service in all big cities since just after the war, and would bring an ambulance to the yard immediately.
‘What’s up with that dozy mare?’ Connie said, arriving in the office before the ambulance and seeing Susie slumped in a chair.
When she had returned to the office and had seen Mr Skinner still unconscious, Susie’s heavily mascaraed eyes had rolled, and she’d swooned, falling with perfect accuracy into an office chair.
‘She couldn’t have aimed herself better if she tried,’ Evie said, realising that Susie was spark out. Moments later, the ambulance bell alerted everybody to its presence in the yard. Evie and Connie concentrated on Susie when the medics took over Mr Skinner’s care. The office was shrinking by the minute.
‘Here,’ Connie said, giving Evie a small bottle of smelling salts. ‘Waft some of those under her nose.’
‘With pleasure,’ said Evie, opening the bottle and waving it under Susie’s nose. When the pungent smell hit Susie’s senses a second or two later, she spluttered into life.
‘I think I’m going to go again,’ Susie wailed, theatrically putting the back of her hand to her forehead.
‘You’ll be as right as ninepence in no time,’ Connie said when she pushed her head between her knees, and Evie rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Poor Mr Skinner, she thought as Meggie was urged into the back of the ambulance.
‘Will you come with me, Evie?’ Meggie asked, her face ashen with worry.
‘Of course,’ Evie answered grabbing her cardigan and her bag.
16
The strong smell of disinfectant clung to Evie’s clothes as she hurried along the hospital corridor with Meggie, bringing back memories of the last time she was here, when her mother had been dragged from the canal. The smell turned her stomach, but this was not the time to dwell. She must support Meggie, who loved her husband and was worried sick about whether he would survive the night.
‘I’m sure everything will be all right,’ Evie said when they sat on the long wooden bench outside the examination room for what seemed like hours, patting Meggie’s hand. ‘He’s in the best place.’ They had all got such a fright, and when Mr Skinner was stretchered into the ambulance, Evie felt privileged when Meggie asked her to accompany her to the hospital.
‘Sitting here worrying won’t do any good,’ a kindly nurse told Meggie a couple of hours later. ‘Why don’t you go home and get some rest. We have your telephone number and if there is any change we will contact you straight away.’
‘Sooner than that,’ Meggie replied and when she heard rapid footsteps, she turned to see Danny’s long strides devouring the corridor.
‘Go home and have something to eat,’ the nurse said, ‘it will do you the world of good.’
‘Come on, Aunty Meg,’ Danny said, putting his arm round her shoulders. To anybody who didn't know her, Meggie Skinner appeared upbeat about her husband's sudden collapse. But Evie knew different. Behind the business-as-usual exterior, Meggie's world had shattered into a million pieces.
‘I can’t buckle while the vultures are circling,’ Meggie told Evie matter-of-factly. ‘And I’d be obliged if you and Danny keep the business going, I’m sure I won’t be able to manage, but we will keep that under our hats.’
Evie knew Meggie wasn’t give
n to fanciful notions, preferring instead to look a situation in the eye and tackle it. ‘With Danny’s knowledge of running this place, and your sharp business brain, I’m confident that the business is in good hands.’
‘You’ve got the brains and the know-how to run the business under normal circumstances,’ Evie told the older woman, ‘and no doubt you could do it as well as any of us, but I understand that you’re worried about Mr Skinner. Nobody could blame you for concentrating on your husband.’
‘These are trying times,’ Meggie said, suddenly looking tired. ‘I don’t have the strength to keep the business afloat while Henry’s so ill.’
Evie reassured her that there was no need to worry about the business, it was in safe hands.
Meggie’s hear skipped a beat when she entered ward seven from the main hospital corridor and looked through the big window of the side ward, set aside for patients who were critically ill and needed extra care, and saw Henry’s bed was empty.
‘Nurse!’ Meggie called to the probationer nurse, trim in her immaculate crisp green cotton dress, starched white apron and tailored cap, who was opening the double swing doors leading into the main ward. ‘My husband?’ Meggie looked towards the side ward, barely able to get her words out as fear gripped her throat.
‘Ahh, yes, Mrs Skinner.’ The nurse gave a welcoming smile and said efficiently, ‘follow me.’ Hurrying down the middle of the ward, where twenty- four pristine beds were positioned equally on both sides of the ward, Meggie was aware of the click-click of her small-heeled shoes following the nurse’s silent black lace-up rubber soled shoes.
Meggie dare not raise her hopes as a fleeting thought entered her head. Nurses don’t usually smile so widely if they are going to give bad news. Surely.
‘Meggie! Over here, Love.’ Henry’s voice was a little weaker than usual but unmistakeable, nevertheless, and Meggie’s heart soared, her face wreathed in a beaming smile, when she saw Henry sitting up in his navy-blue striped pyjamas under a pristine white bedspread that covered the cream coloured iron bed,
