by Rosie Clarke
A part of me still clung to that hope. Sometimes, I dreamed that he came to me, that he opened his arms and held me close, and I could almost taste the salt of his tears … but when I woke it was my own tears that I felt on my cheeks.
Yet it was an accepted fact that Jon was dead. I had received notification from the War Office that my husband was officially dead and I was classified as a war widow. I had torn up the letter angrily, furious that they had just given Jon up, and I had gone on hoping, praying for someone to find news of him, but it had not happened. Despite myself, I was beginning to think now that it never would.
How long was I prepared to live alone? I was a woman who enjoyed the physical side of marriage, and I knew I could not bear to live alone all my life. Besides, Jon had told me he wanted me to find a new life for myself if something like this happened.
‘Don’t waste your life, Emma,’ he’d told me. ‘Live for me … I want you to be happy, my darling.’
He had wanted to think that I would go on, that I would find happiness again.
Yet supposing I went to Jack and then Jon did come home … what would he think then? Would he understand, or would he feel I had betrayed him?
The thoughts went round and round endlessly in my mind during three sleepless nights, and I was no nearer to making my decision.
Chapter 7
‘Is something the matter?’ Margaret asked. I had been frowning over my letter for several minutes when she spoke. ‘Not bad news I hope?’
I looked up, still frowning. ‘It’s from my friend Sheila. She says she can’t manage to keep the shop running for much longer. It hasn’t been very profitable for a while now. She wants to sell her stock if she can and find work …’
‘Will that make things difficult for you?’ Margaret looked anxious for my sake. ‘What will you do, Emma – let to someone else or sell the property?’
‘I’m not sure. I shall have to think about it. The rent is really my mother’s income. I may have to discuss it with her.’
‘You wouldn’t want to run the shop as a business again? Pay someone else to manage it for you?’
‘I suppose I could … but I would have to find the money to buy Sheila’s stock. I do have some money in the bank, but probably not enough.’
‘Sol would lend you some, Emma – or give you some of your own money back.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’
I didn’t tell Margaret that Sol had enough problems of his own. The factory had run into trouble again. I knew Sol had had a hefty fine to pay recently. Apparently, he had been breaking the rules too often, and had been punished in a way that really hurt. I knew that there was a possibility we might be losing one of our government contracts when it came up for renewal.
We heard the telephone ringing in the hall, then Mrs Rowan came to fetch me.
‘It’s Miss Robinson for you, Mrs Reece.’
Her tone alerted me and I was expecting the worst as I went to pick up the receiver.
‘Gwen – is something wrong?’
‘Mother died last night, Emma. She went in her sleep, very peacefully. She was quite happy last night, and she kissed me when I put her to bed. I found her this morning …’
‘I’m so sorry, Gwen. I’ll try to come down …’
‘No, don’t do that, Emma. I can manage. I really can. I’m glad you visited when you did. Mother did so enjoy seeing you again. She was quite happy. It is a welcome release for her in some ways.’
‘I suppose so. Are you sure you don’t want me to come?’
‘It’s too far and too difficult for you.’ She hesitated, then, ‘I would like to come to you afterwards. Mother wanted you to have a few of her bits and pieces. Nothing valuable, just letters, keepsakes. I would like to bring them to you – and ask your advice. I shall be needing a job. You might have some idea of what I’m best fitted for.’ Gwen laughed. ‘Not very much is the plain answer.’
‘You put yourself down too much, Gwen. Come to us when you’re ready – for Christmas if you like. Yes, come and stay over Christmas. We would love to have you with us.’
‘Mother’s cousin has asked me there. Philip has been good to us, and I have to settle about the cottage. I can’t stay here, even if he would let me. I’ll probably come to you in the New Year, Emma – if that’s all right?’
‘Just let me know,’ I said. ‘Whatever you decide, we’re not going to lose touch, Gwen. I want us to be friends. Don’t worry. I’m sure we can work something out between us.’
I was thoughtful as I replaced the receiver. I might be able to arrange something, but first I would need to talk to my mother.
‘I’m not sure how Gwen would feel about it,’ I said to Mum. ‘She might not want to live in March, even if I could arrange to buy Sheila’s stock.’
Mum looked at me thoughtfully. She had come up to London on the train to spend a few days with us before Christmas.
‘I never did see why you let Sheila rent the place from you, Emma. That business kept us and your father’s family for years by the sound of it. I don’t see why your aunt shouldn’t live there and run it for us. I’ve kept the money you gave me when Sheila bought your father’s stock, and the rent. I didn’t need it, so I put it by in case you ever wanted it. You can have that and welcome.’
I was surprised by her generous offer. She hadn’t wanted me to have anything to do with Father’s family at first, but now she was making it possible for me to provide Gwen with a home and a living.
‘Are you sure, Mum? That money was for you – you are entitled to it. I wanted you to have something of your own, just in case.’
‘Bert gives me all I need,’ she said. ‘He’s got a bit of money by him, Emma, and he’s generous with it. Not like your father. I never have to ask, it’s always there for me every week. I’m giving the money to you, mind, not Gwen. It will be your business. She’ll work there for a wage and live rent free. If she’s satisfied with that, then so am I.’
‘You’re an angel, Mum.’ I hugged her. ‘Sheila wants to leave the shop after Christmas. She’s moving away from March, going to stay with a friend in London.’
‘Her little girl is a beauty,’ Mum said. ‘I think Sheila is right to make the break. People never did take to her being in that shop. It wasn’t so bad when Eric was there, but you know how folk are: give a dog a bad name …’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘I wonder if … no, I’m sure that was just a tale.’
‘What is it, Mum? What aren’t you telling me?’
She looked hesitant, then seemed to make up her mind. ‘I’ve heard people say she drinks …’
‘Oh, Mum! Surely you can’t mean that – not Sheila? I’ve never seen any sign of it.’
‘You don’t see her that often, Emma.’
‘No, that’s true, but … it just doesn’t sound right, not like the Sheila I know.’ I frowned. Sheila had never been the sort to drink too much. She had always been so bright and full of life. ‘She must have changed a lot, that’s all I can say.’
‘People do change, Emma. I think it shocked her when Eric was ill. She had high hopes of that shop, and somehow it all went wrong for her. Some people can’t cope with setbacks. Not the way you have. I suppose she was lonely, and with the drink being there …’
‘Yes, I suppose it must be a temptation, if one is miserable.’
I knew how it felt to be lonely. And Sheila was not as lucky as I had been. She didn’t have good friends to help her conquer her grief and bewilderment. I was her best friend, but I’d been too busy to see her often. Yes, I could understand her loneliness, but drinking wouldn’t help.
I decided to go down and see my friend as soon as I could after Christmas. In the meantime, I would write to her and tell her to contact Mr Smythe. At least I could make things easier for her by buying her stock.
And if Gwen agreed to move into Father’s old shop, I would have no further need to worry about her future.
All I had to think about now was my own.
‘You look lovely, Emma.’ Jack’s eyes were warm with approval as they went over me. ‘That dress is still something special.’
I was wearing the dress Margaret had given me the night I’d accompanied Sol to that reception – the night I’d met Jack. Our first meeting in the street had been too brief to count. It was at the reception that Jack had fallen in love with me, or so he had told me.
‘One look at you in that dress was all it took, Emma,’ he’d said, and the look in his eyes was so positive that I had to believe him.
Now it was Christmas Eve and he was taking me to a special party. He’d asked if I would wear the dress, and I had put it on to please him. I was also wearing the string of pearls he had given me.
‘Who is going to be at this party?’ I asked as we went out to his car.
It was a black Bentley this time. Jack used what he vaguely termed official cars when he was in the country, and he never seemed to have trouble obtaining fuel. Another proof of his status, had I needed it.
‘Oh, friends … people,’ he replied to my question. ‘It’s part pleasure, part business, Emma. But there’s dancing and supper, and I shan’t desert you. It won’t be like that damned dull reception Sol took you to, I promise.’
I nodded but made no reply. I sensed it was going to be what my mother would call a posh do, and I felt a little nervous.
However, when we arrived at the large private house in Mayfair, where the party was being held, my apprehension soon melted away. From the moment Jack introduced me to our hosts, I felt at home.
‘This is Robert Melcher – a fellow American, Emma. And this is Jane. Robert’s superior half.’
‘And if that doesn’t put you off, nothing will!’ Jane Melcher cried wagging her finger at Jack in mock reproach. ‘Oh, my dear, you look gorgeous! Where did you get that dress? Don’t tell me. I know it came from Paris before the war. It’s impossible to buy anything half as good these days. I adore it. I’m so envious!’
Jane had soft brown hair which she wore swept back in an elegant chignon. Her fine brows were pencilled and her make up was immaculate. She was dressed in a very striking crimson gown, which was obviously expensive.
‘Jane has more clothes than any woman I know,’ her husband said before I could think of a reply to her remarks about my dress. ‘Never let her into your wardrobe, Emma. She will want to borrow everything she likes.’
‘Robert simply has no idea,’ Jane said, her eyes brimming with laughter. ‘It’s fun to swop clothes with friends sometimes. It must drive you mad being rationed, Emma. How can you bear it? I couldn’t. Thank goodness I brought loads with me.’
Jane tucked her arm through mine. She took me through the crowded reception rooms, introducing me to all her friends, many of whom were also American.
‘Has Jack told you anything about us?’ she asked, pulling a wry face as I shook my head. ‘Isn’t that just like a man! Robert is attached to the embassy. They also have business together … lots of lovely money, darling! Jack is such a wizard at fixing things.’ She squeezed my arm. ‘Now tell me about yourself, Emma. I know Jack adores you – and I can see why. I believe you have been married?’
‘Yes. Twice. My first husband was killed in a train accident, and Jon … he was in the air force. He was reported missing in action over a year ago.’
‘How awful for you,’ Jane said, looking at me with sympathy. ‘You’ve had rotten luck. Poor you. I don’t know how you can stand it. Jack told me you were awfully brave. He admires you so much.’
‘Jack has been a good friend.’
‘And now he has brought you to us,’ Jane said. ‘And we’re going to be friends, Emma. I always know I either like someone or hate them immediately – and I like you. Now do say you like me or I shall just die of mortification!’
It would have been impossible not to like Jane. She was irrepressible. Full of life and confidence. I felt as if I had been swept up by an irresistible force.
I had never been to a party like this before. There was no shortage of food here, of course. Jane had prepared a sumptuous buffet of all kinds of delicious canapés, smoked salmon, salads, cold meats and gateaux, some I had never seen or tasted before. The champagne was the finest I’d ever had, and the bubbles went up my nose, making me giggle.
Or perhaps it was just sheer relief? After all the gloom of the past months, this was like stepping into a fairytale. It was the glamorous world I had dreamed of when as a young girl I had smuggled magazines about filmstars up to my bedroom: a world that was new and exciting to me.
‘Are you enjoying yourself, Emma?’ Jack asked as we danced. ‘You don’t feel lonely or bored here, do you?’
‘No, of course not.’ I glanced up at him, knowing my eyes must be reflecting my excitement. ‘It’s fun, Jack. I’m loving it. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun in my life.’
‘Good.’ He grinned at me. ‘I thought you would like Jane. She’s one of the best people I know.’
‘Who could help liking her? Robert seems pleasant as well.’
‘He’s OK. Mad about Jane, of course. They are my closest friends over here. At home there are lots more – life is better there, Emma. You would like it.’
‘Would I?’ He nodded. ‘Perhaps one day …’
‘When the war is over, Emma.’
His eyes seemed to demand a commitment from me. I knew what he was asking me, the promise he wanted me to make.
I smiled at him. ‘I think I might like to see America. When the war is over …’
When the war was over, and if Jon didn’t come back. I believed Jack understood the words that remained unspoken.
‘I’ll remind you of that one day.’
‘One day … if you still want me to come.’ I gave him a teasing look. ‘You may have forgotten me by then. You may have found someone a lot more exciting than me …’
‘You want to bet?’ His eyes challenged me. I shook my head and he smiled. ‘Just as well. You would have lost your money, Emma.’
I leaned my head against his shoulder. The music was soft and dreamy, and I had drunk perhaps three glasses of that delicious champagne. I was feeling relaxed and it was good to be close to Jack. He smelled of something that reminded me of heather – the scents of Scotland.
My throat caught with emotion. I was filled with a sense of longing, of need. I could not bear to go on being alone, without hope. I wanted to be loved.
‘What’s wrong, Emma?’
The note of concern in Jack’s voice brought tears to my eyes. I blinked them away as I looked up at him.
‘Could we go somewhere, Jack? Could we be alone?’
I saw the swift gleam in his eyes and knew he understood what I was asking.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’
Jack took my arm, steering me through the crowded room. We went out into the gardens through a conservatory.
‘I stay here when I’m in London,’ Jack said. ‘There’s a kind of apartment over what was once the stable or something. It’s just through here. You will like it …’
He took my hand, leading me through the shrubbery. There wasn’t much light, just a sprinkling of stars in an otherwise black sky. We went down some steps and through a courtyard, then arrived at a rather odd-looking door that was split in the middle and studded with black iron bolts.
‘It still looks like a stable,’ I whispered, feeling the need to keep this escape of ours secret though there was no one around to overhear us.
‘You’ll see …’
He switched on a light once the door was shut. The room we were in was like a continuation of the garden, with plants in pots, a tiled floor and basketwork chairs. The windows were long, right down to the floor, and had wooden shutters, which were tightly shut. In the summer they could be opened up, enabling the room to be used as a summer house.
Stairs led up to the living accommodation. There was a self-contained apartment with a kitchen, sitting-room, bedroom
and bathroom. The furniture was oak, well polished and ancient, the curtains a soft rose damask.
‘It was done over originally for the son of the owner,’ Jack told me as I looked around with interest. ‘He was an artist and he used the room downstairs as his studio.’
‘Yes, it would be good for that … when the shutters are open.’
‘Plenty of light,’ Jack agreed. His voice sounded husky, a little breathless. He was staring at me, watchful, waiting. ‘Emma … you know I love you …’
‘I think I’m in love with you, Jack,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure. I just know I haven’t felt like this about anyone else.’ I moved towards him, my eyes meeting his in silent appeal. I wanted him to understand that I wasn’t giving up Jon. My love for Jon wasn’t affected. This was different. It wasn’t Jon’s wife who stood here. It was a different Emma. A woman I had only half suspected was there inside me.
‘I know how I feel about you,’ Jack said, moving to take me in his arms. ‘I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you at that reception. You looked so beautiful standing there, and yet slightly vulnerable. I wanted to sweep you up in my arms, to run off with you there and then, to keep you safe and love you.’
I laughed. Being with Jack always made me feel like laughing. Suddenly it all seemed so right. It was as if the past had faded away, taking with it all the pain and hurt. I didn’t want to think about the things that caused me grief. Jack was here. He was alive, strong, vibrant – and the excitement was coursing through my veins.
‘Love me, Jack,’ I whispered, moving closer to him. ‘Make love to me now. Make me believe there is a place for us, a world where people are happy as a right. I want all the good things of life. I want to be like Jane and …’
I wanted to feel alive again. As Jack drew me to him, I felt it begin to happen. It was like a rebirth, a new beginning. The old Emma was throwing off the shadows that had claimed her as a bird might moult its feathers, to emerge wearing a shiny and new coat.
