by Anna King
She had imagined he was blissfully unaware of her growing attraction to the engaging stallholder, but now she wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t actually come out and said anything – that wasn’t Arthur’s way, for he hated any form of confrontation – but certain little things he had said, in a perfectly innocent manner, had caused a flutter of anxiety in Ellen’s already guilty mind. If Arthur had indeed suspected anything, there was one thing of which Ellen was absolutely certain – those ideas had been planted in his mind by somebody. Arthur was intrinsically too honest and trusting to think of such a thing left to his own devices, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that person was. She could just see Agnes making veiled remarks with her spiteful tongue. From the moment she and Arthur had married, Agnes had been looking for just such an opportunity to split her former lover and his young bride apart.
As this thought came to mind, Ellen’s body gave an involuntary jump. Her heart began to beat faster as she imagined what it would be like to be free of Arthur, and immediately she was once more assailed by guilt. But after the last disastrous ten days she knew she couldn’t go on the way things stood. If she was bored and dissatisfied with her life now, how, in God’s name, would she feel ten, or 20, years from now? She shuddered at the thought. Arthur could live until his eighties or even nineties, by which time she would be in her fifties, an old woman, childless and bitter at the waste of her life. And as that thought crossed her mind, another one entered it. This must be how Agnes felt.
Ellen couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for her adversary. But she, Ellen, was still young enough to start again – if it wasn’t for Arthur. Her eyes flew open in horror. What was she thinking? It was almost as if she were wishing Arthur dead so she could be free. No! No! She mustn’t entertain such awful thoughts. She didn’t wish Arthur any harm, it was just that… well! She couldn’t help but wish he would just… just disappear. To go off somewhere, somewhere he would be happy, and in doing so set her free. A wry smile touched her lips. Maybe he would rediscover the feelings he had once held for Agnes and run off with her? The frivolous notion quickly vanished. ‘I should be so lucky,’ she muttered sadly. Getting to her feet she began to pace the small balcony, her thoughts in turmoil. She could always ask Arthur for a divorce, but even as the idea entered her mind it was gone. If she were to take such action, Arthur would be devastated. Not only that, he would also be deeply humiliated at being jilted by his child bride. It was what everyone who knew them was waiting for, and she couldn’t do that to Arthur. Whatever his faults, he was a decent man and didn’t deserve to be made an object of ridicule.
No! She would just have to put up with her life and make the most of a bad job. What was that old saying? She’d made her bed and now she must lie in it.
But she had been so young. Young and terrified of what was to become of her. She had jumped at the idea of marriage without giving a single thought as to what she was letting herself in for. If she’d had more experience of life she wouldn’t have married a man twice her age just for a sense of security. But in that respect, Arthur hadn’t been entirely blameless. As Agnes had so bitterly reproached him, he could have adopted her, or applied for legal guardianship. Ellen’s eyes hardened. She at least had the excuse of innocence for her part in the hasty marriage; Arthur, on the other hand, had no such excuse. He had known exactly what he was doing.
Leaning her arms on the intricate iron railing of the balcony she squeezed her eyes shut. It was no use going over and over the same ground. The rights and wrongs of the past were done and couldn’t be undone. That didn’t mean to say the future couldn’t be changed. Because the way things were now, it wasn’t fair to either of them. Not for her, nor Arthur. He deserved better than a wife who didn’t love him, not in the way a real wife should. And she deserved the chance for a proper marriage, with a husband she loved and children. She had always wanted to be a mother, but that would never happen while she was still tied to Arthur. Then there was Ted. With his laughing eyes and daredevil ways. Ted, a man who could turn her legs to water just by looking at her in that intimate way she both loved and feared. She knew he was just waiting for her to say the word, and he wouldn’t think twice about taking her away from Arthur. Men like Ted took what they wanted without fear for the consequences. And that sort of man, if she was brutally honest with herself, was exactly what she craved. Only she wasn’t brave enough to take that ultimate step. And that knowledge made her want to cry out in anguish and disgust at her own weakness.
She was rudely awoken from her daydream by the sound of her voice being called. Leaning over the balcony she groaned at the sight that met her eyes.
Standing outside the hotel looking up at her, his face beaming, was Arthur. Beside him, also smiling brightly, were the Bradleys, the middle-aged couple who had appeared like a godsend to Ellen. In their company Ellen could have a rest from the growing ordeal of making conversation with her husband. It had also meant she no longer had to entertain Arthur, much as one would with a young child, for, from the moment they had arrived in Southend, Arthur had clung to her side like a boy fearful of losing sight of his mother. If the Bradleys hadn’t arrived when they had, Ellen didn’t know how much longer her frayed nerves would have held out. With gentle persuasion she had encouraged Arthur to spend as much time as possible with their new-found friends, leaving her some much needed time to herself. He had objected at first, been almost frightened at the idea of branching out on his own without the presence of his wife to steer him in the right direction, and of course, to step into the conversation if it became stilted. Now it seemed he no longer needed her by his side every waking minute of the day, and for that reason alone, even if, after the holiday, she never saw either of them again, she would be forever grateful to May and George Bradley.
‘Ellen, Ellen, love. We’re going down to the front to watch a game of bowls, maybe even have a game if we can. Do you want to join us?’
Ellen smiled back weakly. Watching a group of middle-aged men playing bowls wasn’t her idea of entertainment; given the choice she’d rather watch paint dry. But if she could get Arthur and the Bradleys out of the way she could take a long stroll along the promenade, looking in the shops, relishing the time to herself. She might even go for a paddle, and hope Arthur didn’t see her. He’d have a fit if he were to see her with her dress up around her knees showing her legs to all and sundry.
‘Would you mind very much if I didn’t, Arthur? I was looking forward to spending the day window shopping.’
Arthur waved his hand airily, his face a picture of husbandly indulgence. ‘Of course I don’t mind, love. If you’re sure you’ll be all right on your own.’
Biting down a moment’s irritation Ellen smiled down at the trio. ‘I’ll be fine, Arthur. You get off, and I’ll see you later for afternoon tea.’
With further waving and assurances they would meet up later the trio finally walked off, disappearing into the swarm of people that filled the promenade. A sigh of relief escaped Ellen’s lips. Getting to her feet she breathed in a deep lungful of sea air and walked back into the adjoining room, her eyes glancing at the mantel clock. It was now just after ten, which meant she had a whole five hours to herself. Grinning broadly she picked up her bonnet and bag and, like a child looking forward to a day off school, she made her way down to the foyer.
She was so engrossed in planning the precious time ahead of her she didn’t hear her name being called at first until the receptionist called again.
‘Mrs Mitson, there’s a telegram for you. I was just about to send the bell boy to your room to deliver it.’
Taken by surprise Ellen took the brown envelope being held out to her, her mind whirling as she tried to think of who could possibly have sent a telegram. Nobody liked receiving the official-looking envelopes, for they usually contained bad news, and Ellen was no exception. Seating herself into a plush armchair in the foyer she carefully opened the envelope, and what she read brought her quickly to her feet.
Gathering her thoughts, Ellen answered quickly, ‘Yes! I mean, no, not really.’ Folding the telegram she looked into the curious eyes of the smartly dressed man. ‘There’s been some trouble at home. I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut our holiday short. Would you kindly prepare our bill while I fetch my husband?’
‘Of course, Madam. I trust it’s nothing too serious?’ he said, his tone hopeful as if waiting for further information. But here he was disappointed, for Ellen, with an absent nod, swept out of the hotel in search of her husband.
* * *
‘I still don’t understand why we have to give up our holiday just because Ted Parker sends a telegram asking us to come back because young Micky’s in trouble. I mean to say, it’s not as if he’s a relation, is it? What about his parents? Surely it’s them who should be taking responsibility for their child. Unless they’re incapable of looking after their own son. Still! They wouldn’t be the first to neglect their offspring. Probably a couple of drunks, sponging off respectable, hard-working men like me.’
His fleshy face quivering petulantly Arthur failed to notice the anger building on Ellen’s face.
‘Besides, what could be so important that it couldn’t have waited a few more days? I was really enjoying myself, and it was you who made such a fuss about taking a holiday in the first place. When I think of the inconvenience, not to mention having to let the Bradleys down, well…’
Ellen turned sharply to the red-faced, indignant man by her side and answered in no small voice, ‘First of all, there was no mention in the telegram of you being needed, or wanted for that matter. You could have stayed behind with the Bradleys, I told you that, but of course you wouldn’t hear of it, would you? Oh, not because you were concerned for me travelling back to London on my own, but because you were worried what it might look like if you had.’
Almost bouncing on the padded seat Ellen’s voice rose a notch higher, much to Arthur’s embarrassment.
‘I wish to God you had stayed behind. You’ve done nothing but moan and whine about the inconvenience to yourself, with not a word of concern about Micky. Ted Parker wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of contacting us if it hadn’t been important. But then, other people’s troubles have never been high on your list of priorities, have they, Arthur? Unless of course you aren’t put out in any way, then you’re all smiles and affability. Well, I’m not like you. I care for my friends, and Micky is a friend. Maybe not a friend of yours, but he certainly is one of mine. And if he needs me, then I’m going to be there for him.’
Her steadily rising voice was attracting the attention of the other passengers aboard the train heading back to London, and immediately Arthur changed tack. Smiling inanely at two women seated on the other side of the aisle he bent his head to Ellen’s and hissed nervously, ‘Keep your voice down, woman. We don’t want all and sundry knowing our business. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss this unfortunate incident when we get home.’
Angrily Ellen shifted away from her agitated husband, a feeling of distaste rising inside her body that this two-faced, petulant man was her spouse. ‘There you go again, thinking of yourself as usual. I should have come back on my own. After all, as you’ve so forcefully pointed out, Micky’s problems are of no concern to you. And as I’ve already said, you could have stayed on at the hotel, I did tell you to. In fact I almost begged you to stay behind. But, oh no! That would have meant showing your true colours to your new friends, and that would never do, would it?’ A slow shudder rippled through her body. ‘God! Every time I think of the way you expressed genuine concern for Micky, it makes me feel sick. You were so convincing, I nearly believed you myself. But it was all an act, just so you could portray yourself in a good light for the Bradleys’ benefit… Oh, get away from me…’ Ellen pulled her hand away from Arthur’s clammy grasp. ‘I’m going to the dining car, and don’t even think of following me, or I swear I’ll really show you up.’
She glared down at the florid, quivering face and again felt a wave of shame – shame that this man was her husband. Arthur made no further move to stop her. Taking out the newspaper he had bought at the station he made a great study of burying his attention in the day’s news.
Steadying herself against the rocking motion of the train Ellen entered the dining car and was immediately shown to an empty table. Suddenly realising she’d had nothing to eat since breakfast she ordered a pot of tea and a large cream cake. As she tucked into the delicious treat she reflected wryly that Arthur’s stomach must be rumbling by now. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with having his holiday spoiled he would have made a beeline for the dining-car the moment they had boarded the train. For if there was one other love he had apart from the bakery, it was his stomach. But she had no fear he would follow her, not after the harsh words she had levelled at him.
Gazing out of the window as the train swept past the picturesque countryside Ellen wondered what could have happened that would make Ted take such drastic action as to send for her. Her hand flew to her mouth as an awful thought struck her. What if something terrible had happened to Micky? Oh, God! No, not that. An image of that sweet, handsome face floated before her eyes and her stomach lurched in alarm. Despite what Arthur said about the young boy not being any relation, Ellen felt differently. To her Micky was like the younger brother she’d never had. Ever since he had appeared at the door of the bakery, cold, hungry and ragged, yet maintaining an air of dignity in spite of his obvious plight, Ellen had felt an overwhelming responsibility for the young lad. And since Ted had taken him under his wing the change in Micky had been remarkable. He was a different person to the one she had first encountered, and Ellen couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of pleasure and satisfaction that she had been instrumental in helping Micky forge a better life for himself.
But Arthur was right about one thing. Why would Ted take the drastic measure of sending for her unless matters back home were indeed serious? If so, then where were Micky’s parents in his hour of need? Closing her eyes Ellen let the gentle rolling of the train lull her into a light sleep. Telling herself she could do nothing until they knew more about the situation, she let her body relax. She had a feeling she was going to need all her strength in the days to come.
Chapter Fourteen
Ellen, Ted and Arthur were sitting in the living room above the shop, the light refreshments Ellen had prepared and laid out on the dining table forgotten. The Mitsons listened in stunned silence as Ted recounted what had transpired during their short absence. When finally Ted stopped talking, Ellen stared at the dark-haired man she had missed more than she cared to admit, her thoughts whirling. So, poor Micky was an orphan on the nm from the workhouse. Not only that, but he had an eight-year-old sister who was utterly dependent on him. Why, oh why hadn’t he confided in her? But then, as Ted had pointed out, Micky had been too afraid of being sent back to the workhouse. Also the loyal young man hadn’t wanted to take the chance of making trouble for his new-found friends. But all that paled into insignificance beside the horror of Molly Masters abducted by a known pervert, aided and abetted by Agnes Handly.
And that was what Ellen was finding so hard to believe.
Ellen knew her employee was capable of many things, but never in a million years would Ellen believe that even Agnes would stoop so low as to deliver an innocent child into the hands of a child abuser. There must be a mistake, there must be.
Arthur too was finding it hard to believe, but, unlike Ellen, Arthur’s mind was working along very different lines. For years he had been trying to find a way to rid himself of the woman who caused him daily embarrassment and shame at the way he had treated her. Up until now he’d been unsuccessful in his quest, but now! His chest swelled, his heart began to beat erratically as he saw himself dismissing Agnes in a great show of moral outrage, preferably in the presence of an audience. No one would bla
me him. There was an unwritten code amongst the criminals of the East End. Stealing, extortion, violence and even murder were looked upon as a way of life because life was hard and people did what they could in order to survive. But there was one brand of low-life that even the most hardened of criminals wouldn’t tolerate, and that was child molesters. The second most reviled person or persons were those who helped the sick, depraved men attain their innocent prey.
Arthur’s mind was working furiously. This was the perfect opportunity for killing two birds with one stone. On the one hand he would be rid of the woman who had been a thorn in his side for years, and in doing so would raise his status in the community. No longer would he be looked upon as just good old Arthur. Dependable, dull Arthur. Tolerated and treated with the same kind of affection one would show to a faithful, ageing dog. His chest swelled further as he envisaged the future. The new respect he would see mirrored in people’s eyes, the deference he would command in the community. Of course he would have to make the dismissal of Agnes public, and the more witnesses to Agnes’ humiliation the better. He frowned as a sudden thought struck him. After what had happened it was doubtful Agnes would dare show her face in public for quite some time. Then he relaxed. If she wouldn’t come to him, then he would go to her, bringing with him as many observers as he could attract along the way.
The inner feeling of euphoria almost caused Arthur to rub his hands in glee. Fortunately he stopped himself in time. But in his vivid imagination there was no thought for the Masters children, even for the child Molly. It wasn’t that Arthur was an unfeeling or unkind man, and if he were to witness a child being hurt he would step in to help if he could. But people like Arthur, who hadn’t the gift of empathy, were incapable of feeling other people’s pain, especially that of strangers. So wrapped up in his own private world was Arthur that everyone and everything was as of no consequence. His face and portly body rigid with self-importance, Arthur rose slowly to his feet. Sticking his chin out from the white starched collar of his shirt, he stuck his thumbs into the lapels of his jacket, rocked back on his heels and boomed pompously, ‘Well, this is a fine state of affairs I must say. Though if the young man in question had been honest with us in the first place, none of this appalling business would have happened. But it has, and now we must try and minimise the damage.’
