by Kitty Neale
‘I’m sure she will,’ said Jill. ‘She’s lucky, being dark like Neville, she can wear most colours. That comes from my Lennie. It’s all right for some. I’m too pale to get away with strong oranges and yellows, for instance.’
‘I think we’re safe to say Hazel won’t choose orange,’ Cora replied. ‘With hair like hers she knows there are colours she has to steer well clear of. Linda can wear anything and look good in it. Whereas Alison looks terrible in everything.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,’ said Jill, slightly shocked. It would help if the girl stood up straight, or tried to do something with her hair, but she sensed she’d only make things worse if she said that. She hastily changed the subject. ‘Neville was saying that Hazel’s only taking one day a week off from the café from now on, to save up more money for the big day. That’s going to be hard work for her.’
‘It is, but when she sets her heart on something there’s no changing her mind,’ Cora told her. ‘She’ll be on her feet six days a week and dead beat on Sundays. I suppose you’re only young once but where she’ll get the time and energy to organise everything she wants I do not know.’
Jill beamed in anticipation. ‘Well, there’s nothing I like better than a good wedding, and I’m not bad at organising if I say so myself,’ she said. ‘So it looks as if it’ll be down to you and me.’
Chapter Nine
Alison was a couple of minutes later leaving for work that morning and she was pleased to see that meant she was walking down Falcon Road just when Paul was winding open the hardware shop’s awning.
‘Nice day for it,’ he said, giving her a cheeky wink.
She blushed immediately. ‘Yes, looks as if we might get a bit of sun for once,’ she managed to reply.
‘Suppose that means you’ll be out walking with your boyfriend, then.’
She went even redder. ‘Oh no, I haven’t got …’ she began, but a call from inside the shop interrupted her.
‘Mr Lanning! We haven’t got all day.’
Paul raised his eyebrows. ‘See what I have to put up with,’ he said quietly. ‘Bet you feel sorry for me, don’t you?’ He turned his spaniel eyes on her and she felt her heart beat faster. ‘Best be off. Don’t work too hard.’ He disappeared inside into the gloom.
Alison took a moment before turning towards the butcher’s. What a start to the week that was. Should she take it as an omen? Why had he said that about her having a boyfriend – was he winding her up or might it mean that he liked her? She didn’t want to get her hopes up too much but surely he wouldn’t have said it otherwise?
Alison wouldn’t have been so happy if she’d known what was really going through Paul’s mind: that he didn’t even have to set the bait for her, she was his for the taking. It was all going to be too easy.
Fred looked up as Alison pushed open the door. He smiled at the sight of her – she was almost cheerful. ‘Good weekend?’ he asked. ‘Did your sister come like she said she would? Did she like my ham?’
‘She did, and everyone loved your ham.’ Alison hung her mac on the coat hooks by the plastic curtain, brightening at his interest. ‘We got measured for our bridesmaids’ dresses. Hazel doesn’t really want me to be one but she sort of had to agree. She’d look bad otherwise and she won’t risk that.’
‘I’m sure you’ll look beautiful,’ said Fred, and meant it. He knew Alison didn’t get on with her middle sister but he saw a different side of her. When she forgot to be nervous or shy she was the ideal assistant: a fast learner, good with the customers, good with money, and not a bad cook either, now that he’d taught her some of the basics. She was beginning to blossom and he was delighted to see it.
‘I’m going to have a full-length frock,’ Alison went on, ‘and Hazel’s on about ordering special bouquets of flowers for us all. Ta-da! You wouldn’t recognise me.’ She twirled on the spot with her arms outspread.
Fred smiled again, and wondered what had brought on all this. She didn’t seem the sort of girl to get so excited about a new dress. Usually she seemed so sensible.
‘Sounds like it’ll be a real day to remember. Now, sorry to bring you back down to earth, but we’re due a delivery of chicken this morning,’ he told her. ‘You don’t have to do anything with them, they’ll all be nicely dead and plucked already, but if I’m out the back and Mr Reynolds arrives in his van, that’s what it’ll be about so give me a shout.’
‘All right,’ said Alison. She was happy enough to check the order as long as she didn’t have to look into the birds’ eyes. That gave her the creeps, and she’d almost thought about giving up eating chicken, but she liked it too much. ‘What does Mr Reynolds do with all the eggs he must have?’
‘No idea,’ said Fred, pausing as he emptied change into the till. ‘Why, do you fancy some for lunch? You can always ask him.’
‘Not particularly,’ said Alison. ‘But I was just wondering. You know, people come in here and buy their ham or their bacon or sausage, and all those things go well with eggs. So wouldn’t it make sense to sell eggs as well?’
‘Suppose so,’ said Fred dubiously, ‘but where would we put them?’
‘There’s plenty of room,’ she insisted. ‘You don’t see it because you’re used to how everything is laid out, but you could put the slicer closer to the till. There’d be plenty of room on the counter if we did that.’
Fred thought for a moment. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. She was right, there was lots of space, and perhaps he’d become blind to how much of it was wasted. Now he had his big fridges, things that had once been kept on the old cool tiled shelves had been moved into them, and he’d simply allowed everything else to spread out. It wasn’t efficient, and that bothered him. He liked to be as efficient as possible – that was what made a business a success.
‘I do believe you’ve got a point,’ he said. ‘So if we are to sell eggs, what do we do next?’
‘Find out how much Mr Reynolds would sell them to us for,’ said Alison at once. ‘Find out how often he could bring them.’
‘And?’ Fred was enjoying this.
‘And work out how much we would sell them at,’ she went on. ‘Like we do with the meat. Work out a percentage to make sure we sell at a profit.’
‘And?’
That stopped her. ‘Isn’t that everything?’
‘We need to know that we can sell them for the same price, or less than, the grocer’s. I can’t remember what I paid for eggs the last time I did a bit of shopping.’
‘When we have a quiet spell I could pop along and check.’
‘Yes, good idea. When Mr Reynolds turns up we’ll ask him about his prices and availability. After that you can run along to the grocer’s.’
Alison was happy to agree and, as she was longing to see Paul again, she began to plan an excuse to go into the ironmonger’s too.
Later that day, in Kent, Linda was cutting bread for sandwiches, thinking there was nothing like the smell of a freshly baked loaf – even if that made it harder to slice. June was playing with her teddy bear in the corner of the kitchen. They both looked up when they heard the door open.
‘Terry! I didn’t expect you home for lunch.’ Linda wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Shall I make you a sandwich too? We were just about to have ours, weren’t we, June?’
Terry stepped around the table and kissed his wife. She had hardly changed since he’d first met her – still smart and pretty enough to turn all the men’s heads, and you wouldn’t think she’d had a kid to look at her figure. She kept herself well and he liked that in a woman. He was the envy of his mates and that was no bad thing either.
‘Can’t stop for long,’ he said. ‘I just needed to pick something up. But it gives me a chance to see my little princess.’ He bent down to June’s level and gave her a quick hug. June giggled in delight.
‘Not like you to forget anything,’ Linda commented, stacking the slices and reaching for the butter. ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’ She tried
not to imagine what it could be. She prided herself on being sensible but she knew if anything happened to Terry’s job driving the lorries, the whole respectable life they’d built for themselves away from Battersea would crumble. She didn’t intend to allow that.
Terry ran his hand through his dark blond wavy hair. There was no doubt where June got her looks from – they had the same colouring, down to the bright blue eyes. Terry was well aware of his physical appearance but he only had eyes for Linda. He’d seen the mess some of his mates had got into over women – that wasn’t for him. The two of them made a strong team and he was about to be in a position where he could make it even stronger.
‘Nothing’s wrong at all,’ he said easily. ‘They still think I’m the bee’s knees at the depot. But I might be able to do a bit extra. How do you like the sound of that?’
‘Will it mean you being away more?’ Linda hated it when Terry had to travel long distances. ‘You know June likes you here at her bedtime. You have to think of things like that.’
‘No, it’s all local,’ Terry assured her. ‘One of the benefits of living in Kent is so much is on your doorstep. Some extra goods might come up that need looking after and transporting.’
‘Looking after?’
‘They might not be suitable for the usual warehouse,’ Terry tried to explain without actually giving away too much. He scanned the shelves for the packet he’d forgotten to take into work that morning and reached over to pick it up, but there was no escaping Linda’s questions.
‘So where would they go? What are we talking about?’
Terry knew he had to proceed carefully. One of the things he loved about Linda was she was so quick on the uptake, but at moments like this it made everything more difficult. He didn’t want to lie – she always knew when he was lying and it made things worse. But what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
‘We’re talking about a few boxes,’ he said. ‘I reckon they could go in our shed. They wouldn’t be there long and they wouldn’t be in your way. You wouldn’t even know they were there.’
‘Except if I needed to go into the shed.’
‘But you hardly ever do. You leave this to me. It’s all work, nothing to do with you.’
‘Boxes of what? June, why don’t you take Teddy and make him wash his hands before lunch?’ Linda was proud of the fact they had an upstairs bathroom but now she was extra thankful as she didn’t want the little girl to overhear what she suspected Terry was about to say. June headed off up the stairs and Linda turned a direct look on him.
‘All right, Terry, boxes of what? Do you mean stolen goods?’
‘No, nothing’s stolen. It’ll be all sorts. But mainly from France.’
‘Are you talking about smuggled stuff, then? It’s to avoid paying duty, isn’t it?’
Terry sighed. He hated to think what she’d be like if she was in the police. Criminals wouldn’t stand a chance. ‘Look, it’ll be all right …’
‘I don’t want you to get involved in anything illegal, Terry,’ Linda said. ‘That puts everything we’ve achieved at risk – you, me and June. You always said you wouldn’t do anything dodgy and I know you’ve had offers. But you can’t do anything to damage our family. Promise me you won’t.’
Terry could never say no to his wife, but he knew that this opportunity wouldn’t come along twice and it would be worth what he saw as a very small risk. Last week a man had approached him, making it clear he was part of a larger operation. They’d once been customers of the haulage firm he worked for, and kept an eye out for anyone who might be useful to them and who’d appreciate the chance of a little extra on the side.
‘We’d get compensated for our trouble,’ he said. ‘Really, it makes sense. The docks are just down the road with ferries going to France. We’re in the ideal place to take advantage of that. Just think, we’d be able to move to a bigger house if we’re careful.’
Linda shut her eyes. She was tempted. She wanted another baby more than anything and she was damned if she was going to raise her own children in the overcrowded conditions she’d been brought up in. Terry had found her Achilles heel. She knew it, he knew it. She felt sick at the thought of losing everything but if this was their big break … Terry wasn’t a chancer, she told herself. He’d have thought it all through and weighed up the odds.
‘I don’t want you doing anything dangerous,’ she said, furious that she might break into tears at any moment. ‘Nothing that’ll threaten what we’ve done so far. I want to be proud of you, Terry, not afraid for you.’
Terry reached out and hugged his wife tightly. ‘I’d never put you in danger, you know that. I love you far too much. I just want us to do well. And I know you want another baby.’ He hugged her even tighter. ‘I do too. We could make a start right now if you like. We’ll have our family in a lovely big house, Linda. I promise you it’ll be all right.’
Linda hugged him back then pushed him away. ‘You daft sod. Look what you’ve made me do.’ She wiped her face. ‘June’ll come in and see at any moment.’ Hurriedly she splashed her cheeks with water at the sink. ‘Be careful, Terry. I trust you, of course I do. But make sure you only deal with people you can trust too. Nothing stolen.’
‘No, it’s nothing like that, I told you.’ Terry made for the door once more, juggling the packet from hand to hand. ‘Just think of it as a grey area. That’s all it is. A grey area.’
Alison had set off to find out what the grocer charged for eggs. She was enjoying the sense of freedom and the fact that Fred trusted her to do this. Since she’d started her job at the butchers, things were starting to look a little brighter.
When Alison went into the grocer’s, she purchased a packet of biscuits while surreptitiously taking note of the egg prices. She then hurried back, desperate to make time to pop into the ironmonger’s.
There was no sign of the old man at the counter but Paul was there in an instant, his overall sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She couldn’t help noticing the dark hairs on his arms and hoped she wasn’t staring. ‘Hello again,’ he said. ‘I was just doing a spot of lifting round the back. The boss isn’t up to it but it’s no trouble for me.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ said Alison. She could imagine he was strong, and stopped her train of thought before it could go any further.
‘But you haven’t come in here to hear about that, have you?’ He gave her his cheeky grin. ‘What can I do for you?’ He raised his eyebrows and she had to giggle.
‘I just want a nice big nail to hang my coat on.’
‘You don’t want a nail. You want a hook. Come this way and I’ll see what I can find,’ Paul said, leading her into the gloomy interior of the shop. He stopped at a row of dusty drawers and, opening one, he pulled out a brass hook. ‘Here’s a nice one. Perfect to hang a coat on.’
Before she knew how it had happened, Alison found herself pressed against the shelves behind her. Paul was so close that she could smell his skin and hear his breathing as he asked, ‘Would you like to buy it?’
‘I … think … so …’ She couldn’t meet his eyes, afraid he’d see her turmoil.
There was a clatter from the front of the shop. ‘Mr Lanning! Where are you, please?’
Paul gave a short laugh. ‘He always does this. Just when things were getting interesting. Come on.’ More loudly he called, ‘I’m with a customer. We’re just going to the till.’
She had no choice but to follow him as he quickly moved towards the counter, twisting to avoid the various boxes of seemingly random items stacked in odd places along the shop floor. She couldn’t think straight. What had just happened? Was it all in her head?
Blindly she handed over the money and again felt that deliberate touch of his fingers against the skin of her palm as he gave her the change. ‘I’ll see you out, miss,’ he said. The old man nodded in approval and began to make his stooped way away from the counter once more.
Paul grandly opened the door for her. ‘Do you bring sandwiches in fo
r lunch?’ he asked casually.
‘No,’ she said, ‘I usually eat with Fr … Mr Chapman. We’ve got chicken casserole today.’
‘Pity,’ he said.
But when she turned to ask him what he meant, he’d already shut the door.
For the second time that day she stood under the awning not understanding what was going on. She was annoyed that she was at a disadvantage, having had so little experience with men. Then she gave herself a shake. Whatever was going on, she decided she’d enjoy it for all it was worth.
Jill Parrot sat at her kitchen table, several sheets of paper in front of her. There was nothing she liked better than a project to organise. They had about six and a half months to plan the wedding and she couldn’t wait to get started. With Cora, Hazel and Neville working full time and beyond, she was the best person to step in.
She made several headings: Guests, Venue, Catering. Then she divided the remaining space into six columns, one for each month. How long would it take to decide on a venue and how much notice did they need? She wrote a target date in pencil. When it had been confirmed she would write over it in pen. Maybe she should colour-code it according to who was going to do what. Should she assume that it would be at the local church and then they could use the hall? She’d better check. Neither she nor her husband Lennie had any special ties to the parish, and her children would only go to church if it was Christmas, Easter or a special event. Cora was born and bred here, though, and might have strong views.
Jill didn’t mind as long as the young couple had a good day and a proper celebration to start their life together. She smiled as she remembered her own wedding day – how happy she’d been. Neville had come along a year later and Kathy not long after that. Neville was a hard worker, she’d give him that, and such a good-looking lad. Kathy was the brains of the family; she’d got herself a job in an office and was planning to work for the civil service. Jill hoped her daughter wouldn’t put everything into her career and delay having a family of her own. It wasn’t that she objected to women working – she just didn’t want the girl to miss out. Office jobs were all very well but she couldn’t see how that would match the satisfaction of keeping a house, even a small one, and raising children.
