by Fern Britton
She really had had too much to drink. ‘Ha-ha. Not always an angel but we do love her.’
‘She’s wonderful. A wonderful, wonderful, woman,’ she slurred.
‘Wonderful,’ I smiled, looking at the door anxiously, hoping that Greg would still be waiting for me.
‘I am going to tell you something now. When Harold and I were lodging with you, we fell in love.’
‘Yes, you did. I know.’ I was hoping if I let her say what she wanted to say, I would get away quicker.
‘We had to get married, you know, because Sophie was on the way and my family cut me off but your mother … your mother understood. She was so kind. No one ever guessed.’
‘Really?’ I was amazed. ‘Goodness. I had no idea.’ I glanced at the empty doorway again. ‘I would love to talk more but I’m sure Mr Tomlinson will be wondering where you are and I am rather tired. It’s been a very exciting day, hasn’t it?’
‘You are such a lucky girl.’
Thankfully Mr Tomlinson appeared at that moment. ‘Darling, time for bed. I think you’ve had a bit too much sherry.’
I watched as he gently got her to her feet. ‘Come on, old thing.’ He looked at me. ‘Goodnight Hannah. Splendid day. Splendid.’
I watched as he steered her to the stairs and then hurried out into the night air.
Greg was waiting for me, enjoying a cigarette in the moonlight. ‘Would you like one?’ he asked. I shook my head. ‘Shall we walk a little? It’s a beautiful night.’
Trevay had never felt so romantic. The soft air and starry skies seduced me and gave me the confidence to lean my head on Greg’s shoulder without fear.
‘That feels nice.’ He kissed the top of my head. ‘Edward tells me you were both born in Malaya.’
‘Yes. We arrived in Cornwall when Edward was ten and I was five. I barely remember Penang. Cornwall is home to me now. Where are you from?’
‘Just outside Birmingham. The Black Country. My father was a miner. If it hadn’t been for the war, I would be down the pit by now.’
‘Your parents must be very proud of you. Flying Lancasters.’
‘It’s braver to work down the mines, believe me.’
‘Do you have brothers or sisters?’
‘No. Only child. Apple of my parents’ eyes. Spoilt rotten.’
‘Do you see them often?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘You might hate me.’
‘I could never hate you. Go on.’
We stopped and he tilted his head to the stars with a huge sigh. ‘Honestly? I want more than they can give. I want to make my name. Be somebody. Live a better life than they have lived.’
‘You can do that and still love them. Be part of them.’
‘I know. And they will always love me. But, I don’t want them to be part of the world I am beginning to inhabit.’ He found his cigarettes and lit one. ‘Does that make me sound very selfish?’
I was too intoxicated by his presence to disagree. ‘Of course I understand.’
He kissed me. Not the determined kiss of a man who wanted sex because he’s scared he’ll die tomorrow, like the men I had known before. No, this was the kiss of a man who wanted me. Just me.
When we broke apart he smiled at me shyly. ‘You are the most lovely woman I have ever met.’
‘Am I?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Goodness.’
He smiled and kissed me again. ‘Right, I had better get you home or I will have confirmed all your mother’s suspicions about me.’
We made our way back to my home, stopping constantly to kiss under the shadows of the ships tied up on the quay and the creaking signs swinging above the shops.
I heard Edward shouting even before we turned the corner into our lane.
His voice was loud and aggressive. ‘Get out. I don’t know who you are or who you think you are, but you are upsetting my mother.’
We turned the corner and I could see Edward standing in front of the door to the shop and the man, Michael Carter, who had spoken to me down at the harbour hours before, standing with dignity before him.
‘Edward, I just want to speak to her,’ he said. ‘Please.’
‘Don’t call me by my name. You don’t know me and my mother does not know you.’
Michael took a step closer to Edward. ‘I just want to see her. To talk. I am not here to hurt her.’
Edward squared up to him. ‘Just fuck off.’
Michael raised his hands in peace. ‘Please. It’s about her friend, my foster mother. She died and she wanted me to find her. Please.’
Even though this man, Michael, was the same height, if not a bit taller than Edward, he couldn’t match Edward’s strength. Grabbing him by his collar, Edward almost lifted Michael off his feet as he threw him off the pavement and onto the road. ‘I told you to fuck off. I am warning you, if I ever see you hanging around here again, I swear to God, you won’t be going anywhere without a wheelchair. Do you understand?’ Edward loomed over Michael who had fallen onto the road.
‘Yes, I do. But if your mother ever wants to contact me, tell her I am still in Faversham. The same address,’ Michael said, wiping blood from his hand as he got to his feet.
‘Just bugger off.’ Edward gave him one more glare then walked into our shop and slammed the door. The sound of the bolts being rammed into their clasps echoed around us.
I stood in shock. I had never seen Edward like that.
Greg went to Michael. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’ve been better.’ Michael was pale with shock. ‘I knew my coming here would be a shock, but I hoped that it would turn out better. I just wanted her to see me. To know,’ he said.
He ran his hand through his disorganised hair and checked the wound on his hand.
‘Is it OK?’ I asked.
He gave me a smile of recognition. ‘Hannah. Hello again. Yes it’s just a graze.’
‘You need to sit down for a moment,’ Greg said and helped me to the kerb. He sat down and I joined him, putting my arm around his slumped shoulders. ‘Can I take your message to Mum?’
Michael looked up at the windows above Mum’s shop. ‘It’ll keep.’ His smile was sad. ‘I just wanted her to see me and to know me. That’s all. I am not here to make trouble.’
‘But why do you want to see her?’
Greg took a handkerchief from his pocket. ‘You’d better wrap that round your hand.’
Michael was surprised to see that the blood from his hand was now dripping onto his trousers.
‘That’s not a graze.’ Greg pointed at a broken piece of glass. ‘You must have fallen on that.’
‘I’ll tie it for you.’ I took his hand. The cut was small but deep. ‘There. You’ll need to clean it. Where are you staying?’
‘Over the hill and faraway.’ He got to his feet with a hollow laugh.
‘We could get you a taxi?’
‘No. No. I am fine. You are a kind person, Hannah. But if you knew my true circumstance, I fear you might treat me as your brother has.’
‘I can promise you I wouldn’t,’ I told him earnestly. ‘I want to help you.’
‘You are very kind.’ He shook Greg’s hand and then mine. ‘I am so pleased to have met you, Hannah. And I apologise for creating such a scene.’
‘Are you staying in Trevay tonight?’ I asked, not wanting him to leave like this. ‘Perhaps we could meet up tomorrow and we could talk?’
‘Maybe.’ His smile to me was suddenly kind and almost affectionate. ‘One day perhaps.’ With a deep breath, he stood tall and gave me a short bow from the neck. ‘Goodnight. And thank you. I shall not forget your kindness.’ He nodded to Greg and walked away.
Greg and I watched as he rounded the corner, listening to his footsteps slowly diminish in the quiet dark.
I turned to our door crossly. ‘I am going to have words with Edward.’
Greg held my arm and pulled me back to him. ‘Edward is enjoying his wedding
night and you are not going to spoil that.’
‘I suppose not,’ I sighed. ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’
‘No.’ He put his arms around me. ‘But I do fancy you.’
‘Oh Greg.’
‘Come on. Let’s find somewhere we can be alone.’
We spent the rest of the night huddled in the bus shelter by the fish market. We talked about everything. He told me about wanting to travel the world with his camera, to be a photojournalist. During the war he had managed to take images from his cockpit of the damage his bombs had done over Germany. He told me how he’d had to close his mind to the people beneath him. The dead, the homeless, the widowed and orphaned. The War Office discovered what he was doing and asked him to continue for their intelligence work.
‘It wasn’t easy,’ he told me. ‘Once you’ve dropped your payload, you want to get up and out of there as soon as possible. Not be worrying about focus and composition. But when I could get a shot, I did. But what I found is that there are so many stories in the world that can be told in pictures. Have you seen the National Geographic Magazine?’
I shook my head.
‘You should. Stories about people and places you would never have thought of. Wild, dangerous, colourful places.’
‘Like Penang?’
‘Yes!’ His eyes lit up. ‘I could take you to Penang and you can show me your father’s house. His plantation. Look at how his workers live.’
‘I would love that. We took some pictures of Edward and Shirley today. All dressed up. And of Mum and David and me too. He hasn’t had any recent photos for ages. He’ll hardly recognise David. He’s grown so much.’
He smiled. ‘You see. You get it. Our lives. Their lives and what we can learn from each other.’
‘It all sounds incredible. I should like to watch you work.’
‘I will take pictures of you.’ He looked deeply into my eyes and, as described in any romantic fiction I had read, I melted.
As the eastern sky began to gather streaks of light, the red and green navigational lights of Trevay’s fleet of fishing boats pricked the inky sea as they sailed back into harbour.
We walked to the harbour wall and down to the small beach, where we watched them and skimmed stones.
‘Stay right where you are,’ he said to me as I was about to throw a smooth piece of slate.
‘Why?’
‘With the dawn light behind you, you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.’
I laughed. ‘What about all those fashion models you work with?’
‘They have superficial beauty but inside there is nothing. They can’t match you.’
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘Yes. Oh,’ he replied.
We held each other and he kissed me again and then whispered into my neck, ‘This must be the best day of my life.’
‘Mine too,’ I breathed. ‘What time is it, Greg?’
He checked his watch. ‘Ten to five.’
‘Ten to five? Oh gosh. Mum will be mad.’
He took my hand and together we ran.
Greg saw me safely into the kitchen and then, with one last kiss, he left me for his guesthouse. I crept upstairs and found Mum sleeping soundly. Not snoring exactly, but breathing through her mouth, puffing out her lips in a small purring sound. I pulled off my bridesmaid’s dress and hung it up carefully. In the dressing-table mirror I saw a different me to the one of yesterday. Softer, happier, feminine. Things I hadn’t had time for during the war years. I slipped off my underwear, pulled on my nightie and got into bed. My head was full of Greg and my lips were almost bruised by all his kisses. I thought I wouldn’t sleep but I did, solidly and dreamlessly, until Shirley woke me a couple of hours later.
‘Hannah? Are you awake?’
‘No,’ I said without opening my eyes. ‘Is Mum awake?’
‘Yes, she’s downstairs already.’ She giggled and, lifting up my bedclothes, slid in next to me. ‘Wasn’t yesterday divine?’ she breathed. ‘I can’t believe we are now sisters. Edward is the most wonderful man and I am so happy. Last night in bed was pretty good too.’ She giggled.
‘Eugh.’ I pulled the sheets around me. ‘I don’t want to know.’
‘And what about you and Gorgeous Greg? Tell me everything.’
I opened one eye and smiled. ‘I can’t possibly tell you everything.’
She opened her eyes wide. ‘Oh my goodness! Hannah Bolitho! You didn’t!’
‘No, I did not. But I might. What time is it?’
‘A quarter to eight.’
I groaned. ‘I didn’t get in until five. Can I go back to sleep, please?’
‘OK.’ She wriggled down next to me.
‘Are you staying?’ I opened one eye, ‘Or going back to your bed of marital passion?’
‘I’ll stay.’
‘Well be quiet.’
‘OK.’ She was silent for approximately ten seconds. ‘Something really weird happened last night.’
‘What?’
‘A man came looking for your mum, only she took one look at him and told Edward to see him off.’
Suddenly I didn’t feel so tired. ‘Yes. I saw Edward throw him out. I spoke to him. He seemed very nice.’
Shirley gave a shiver.
‘He must have followed us home from the reception, because he was hanging around outside when we got back. We used the back door as we always do, and kept it open because it was such a lovely warm evening. Your mum and I went into the parlour with David, who by the way had had too much shandy, while Edward put the kettle on. Your mum and I were laughing at David, who was telling us his silly jokes, when we heard a man’s voice at the kitchen door, asking if this was Clara Bolitho’s house. Well, your mum and I hushed David and listened. We heard the man say his name was Michael something and that his foster mother had known your mum when she was in Kent. Your mum got up ever so quickly to go and see him. I followed her and when she saw the man, she slammed the door in his face. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost. She was so pale I got her a brandy.
‘Anyway, the next thing we know is there’s a hammering on the shop door and she told Edward to see him off. That he wasn’t to hang around here. Well, we heard Edward open the door and tell the man what for. Your mum was very upset. Edward poured her another brandy until she’d calmed down and then she went to bed saying she had a headache.’
‘So, who was he then? Michael?’ I asked. ‘Did Mum say?’
‘No. She said nothing.’
‘It’s funny but I met him yesterday after the wedding. We spoke and he seemed really sweet.’
‘Well, I think Edward is right. He thinks he might be one of them who has funny thoughts,’ Shirley said. ‘You know. Imaginary friends and stuff. I mean, look at some of the people Edward was in hospital with when he was ill. Perhaps he has the same thing Edward had.’
‘Oh yes. That might explain it.’ I remember I had thought Michael looked familiar. ‘He must have been in the same hospital with Edward. He must have heard Edward talking about Mum or something and made a weird connection with her in his brain. Poor man.’
‘Edward said he’d never seen him before.’
‘Well, he was on that much medication, he probably wouldn’t remember.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Shirley said. ‘That’ll be it. Well done, Hannah. Mystery solved.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hannah, Trevay
1947
Edward and Shirley slotted into married life easily. They took over the two top rooms, Mum moved her workshop back downstairs, and Shirley kept her job at the bank while Edward took on shifts at the pub as well as in the shop.
All I wanted to do was to see Greg again. I didn’t hear from him at all over the next six days.
‘You’re about as useful as a wet lettuce, moping around all the time. Waiting for the postman,’ Mum chastised me. ‘Find something useful to do. The bakers are looking for girls.’
The bakers were on the quay and fa
mous for their pasties and bread. It wasn’t the same as working on ack-ack but it was a job (and paid a bit better than Mum did). It was extraordinary that women who had worked at men’s jobs during the war were now subjugated to office work or shop work, while the men took up where they had left off.
I took the job because it was easy and my working hours meant I would have plenty of weekends free to see Greg.
His first letter arrived exactly a week after the wedding.
Dearest beautiful Hannah,
Forgive me for not writing straight away but I have been on a couple of jobs for knitting patterns. The pay was dreadful but will at least allow me to buy you a decent dinner this weekend. Can you come up to town? I would pay the train fare if I could but that would mean no pudding with your dinner. Say you’ll come? I can’t live another week without you.
Let me know by return of post.
Your Greg x
I told Mum that Greg had booked me into a local hotel, where his parents would stay when they came to town to visit, and he would sleep in his small flat.
She narrowed her eyes and lit a cigarette before giving me a very vague birds-and-bees talk. ‘Men get very excited and women have to be careful,’ she said, not filling in any of the gaps between what I knew already. ‘Women who get pregnant before marriage have only themselves to blame. Your father would disown you if you got into trouble. And imagine what Edward and David would think. It would bring shame on us all.’
‘Yes Mum,’ I said primly. ‘Greg is very respectful and I am not silly.’
‘I hope so,’ she said.
I couldn’t wait to get on the train or for the journey to end. At Paddington I looked around expecting to see Greg, who had told me he’d be there to meet me, but I couldn’t see him so I waited in the station café. He turned up almost an hour late, full of apologies.
‘Darling little Hannah, I am so sorry. The bloody designer I am working with is such a prima donna. He actually flounced out after I said that I thought the model didn’t look good in the gown he had designed. He started crying, and that set off Francine, who may be delightful to look at but—’
