‘Shall you give me a hand with the furniture or should I fetch a neighbour?’
Tanner helped him and they loaded the barrow.
Mrs Brent appeared at the front door. At the sight of the barrow, she covered her mouth with her hand.
Jim went to stand beside her. ‘Is there more furniture?’
She looked at him helplessly. ‘Most of it’s mine, but I can’t take it, not until those rooms in Wilton Lane are dried out properly. Anyroad, I wouldn’t leave Hilda and Posy without.’
‘But you will take what’s yours in the end?’
‘We’ll see.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I can’t think about it now. It’s too much.’
‘I’ll take the barrow now and come back for the boxes. Do you want to come with me?’
‘What, now?’ She looked startled. ‘No, I … Not yet. My coat’s hanging on the bedroom door.’
Jim’s heart ached for her. He had seen this before. In the war, when men were overwhelmed, they sometimes latched onto a trifling detail as if it had the greatest significance. Focusing on that enabled them to blunder on through the horror.
‘I’ll be back before you know it.’
He trundled the barrow round to Mrs Brent’s new home, then he returned to Finney Lane. A couple of men from across the road helped load the tea chests onto the barrow.
Jim knocked and Posy opened the door. He found Mrs Brent upstairs, almost in a trance, gazing round the room, evidently too drained to think what to do next. Jim fastened the suitcase.
‘Come along,’ he encouraged the tormented lady. ‘Time to go.’
He descended the stairs ahead of her, braced to break her fall should she stumble. The Tanners were in the hall, dressed for going out. Jim followed them outside.
‘Will you be much longer?’ Tanner demanded.
‘There are still a few things upstairs,’ said Jim.
‘We can’t wait. We must get to the second-hand furniture shop to look for a cupboard for Posy’s bedroom.’
‘Before you go,’ Jim said quietly.
He glanced round. Mrs Brent was where he had left her in the hall, gazing round, raw pain etched into every line of her body. Jim drew Tanner aside and spoke for his ears alone.
‘Here’s a piece of free legal advice. Even though Mrs Brent is quitting this house, the furniture she is leaving behind remains her property. If there is any damage to it, or if it is not returned to her when she requires it, I’ll see you in the magistrates’ court.’
Tanner broke away from him and addressed Mrs Brent.
‘We’ll say goodbye now, Mother-in-law. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to persuade you to change your mind? No? Then I wish you well in your new home. Come along, Hilda, Posy. No tearful farewells. She’s only going to Wilton Lane.’ He made as if to go, then turned back. ‘Kindly lock up behind you, Mother-in-law, and leave the key on the string. I wouldn’t want you taking it with you by mistake.’
With his wife on one arm and his daughter on the other, off he went.
Jim made a couple of final trips up and down the stairs and finished loading his barrow.
Mrs Brent walked through the front door in a daze. It wouldn’t have surprised him had she dropped to the pavement in a dead faint. Then her face changed, her chin hardened and she darted back inside. Great Scott, she wasn’t going to take possession of the house in the Tanners’ absence, was she?
She knelt on the staircase, fiddling with something. She pulled free one of the stair rods, marched out of the house and thrust it into his astonished hands.
‘Get rid of this for me.’
‘Mrs Brent—?’
She tramped away without a backwards glance.
‘Why that man isn’t married is a mystery to me,’ said Mrs Brent.
Nell looked at her over the mugs of Ovaltine they were sharing before bed, or rather, she was drinking from a mug; Mrs Brent had her harebell teacup and saucer. Her special china that had lived in her own kitchen for umpteen years was now in Nell’s house. Eh, just when you thought life had thrown everything at you …
‘How do you know he isn’t married?’ Nell asked.
‘He doesn’t wear a ring.’
She snorted. ‘That doesn’t mean owt.’ Even when a man did wear a ring, it needn’t mean owt. Look at Stan. One ring, two wives.
‘Anyroad, I asked him.’
Nell removed the mug from her lips without taking a sip. ‘You never!’
‘I weren’t obvious. I asked if his wife would mind him being home late because of helping me.’
‘Oh aye, very subtle.’
‘It’s different if someone my age asks. And it is a shame, Jim not being married.’
‘I hope you aren’t hinting anything.’
‘You must admit, he’s a good ’un.’
‘He’s been a good friend to me and the kids; a good friend to you an’ all, now.’
A good friend, and that was all he could ever be. Never mind that her skin felt tingly and glowing in his company. Never mind that funny little flip her heart did. Never mind that he was solid and dependable, that he thought of ways to help and went out of his way to do you a good turn. Never mind that the children adored him. She almost wished he would let her down … just so he wouldn’t seem so right for her.
Nell put down her mug. ‘Have you finished? Let’s go to bed.’
‘I’ll wash up.’
‘I’ll do it. You must be dead beat.’
‘I didn’t come here for you to run round after me. I’ll pull my weight.’
Nell grinned. ‘You wait until tomorrow. I’ll give you a list of jobs as long as your arm. Seriously, it’ll be a big help, having you here.’
‘I hope child-minding is at the top of your list. I can’t offer much by way of rent, but I can pay my way through other means.’
‘I won’t pretend a spot of rent won’t go amiss, but you aren’t a lodger. You practically brought up my children while I was at the factory. You’re family.’
Mrs Brent’s eyes gleamed with tears. ‘After everything that’s happened … after the way I threw you out.’
‘You didn’t throw us out.’
‘One week’s notice …’
‘That’s forgotten. I know it’s rotten, leaving your Hilda and Posy, but you’ve got family here an’ all, if it isn’t cheeky of me to say so.’
‘Cheeky? There’s nowt you could have said to make me more welcome. And … here’s a piece of cheek, if you please.’ Mrs Brent pressed her lips into a line, looking uncertain. ‘You said family just now, so can I stop being Mrs Brent? Can I be … Aunt Leonie?’
Warmth cascaded through Nell in a series of tiny bursts. ‘I’d love that. Can the children call you “Aunt” as well?’
‘I always wanted to be Nana, but when our Posy came along, Edmund said I was Gran. Could they call me Nana? Only it must be Nana Leonie to show I’m not their real nana, so Posy isn’t pushed out.’
‘That’ll be perfect.’
‘Perfect? You think so?’ Mrs Brent – Aunt Leonie spread her fingers across her throat. ‘I’ve lost my home, driven out by my own son-in-law. Should I have stood my ground? I tried, honestly, I tried, but in the end … What have I done, Nell? What have I done?’
Chapter Nineteen
She must go through the motions of ordinary everyday life – ordinary? That was a joke. It would never be ordinary again. Yes, it would, Leonie tried to reassure herself, though her ears rang with panic. Given time, this new life would become normal and acceptable. It must. Until then, she must be cheery, helpful and sensible. She could manage that – couldn’t she?
She and Nell spent most of Sunday unpacking.
‘It’s lovely to have your things here,’ said Nell. ‘It makes this house feel like home, Aunt Leonie.’
Nell called her Aunt Leonie at every opportunity, and Leonie knew this was to make her feel welcome, but would she ever feel anything again, other than stunned and sick and disbelieving? Even her musc
les were overwhelmed. They were sore and sluggish. Everything was an effort.
On Monday Nell went to work, setting off early because she was in Ingleby’s today, and Leonie looked after the children. She delivered Alf to school, then took Cassie round the shops.
‘Eh, is it true you’ve moved in with Nell Hibbert?’ she was asked a dozen times.
‘That’s right,’ she answered, ‘and I’m glad my Hilda and our Posy have my old house to live in. It’s a lucky house, that is.’
Aye, ruddy lucky for Edmund Tanner. Give up two rooms and a scullery, move into a nice two-up two-down, install yourself in the parlour, get your name on the rent book and Bob’s your uncle.
She spent the morning baking. The house filled with the scent of ginger and apples and sugar. Her house had always smelt of baking, of pastry and onions and warm, juicy fruit. And herbs. She must start again with a few herbs. Edmund had taken her to pieces bit by bit. She had to rebuild herself. She needed chives to sprinkle on smoked haddock flan, rosemary to add a tang to her roast potatoes. The thought of cooking and baking gave her a little boost. No, it didn’t, because she was in the wrong kitchen.
That afternoon, she summoned all her self-control and returned to Finney Lane. She didn’t walk in. It stung not to walk through her front door of forty years, but she didn’t. She knocked and waited for Hilda to do the honours. Hilda was embarrassed. Well, so she rotten well should be.
No, she mustn’t get bitter, not against Hilda. This was Edmund’s doing.
‘Did you have to bring the little one?’ Hilda asked.
Leonie promptly dumped Cassie on the floor to run amok. ‘I’m minding her. I must keep an eye on the time so I’m not late fetching Alf from school. I can fetch Posy an’ all.’
‘She doesn’t need fetching.’
‘It’ll give me the chance to see her. I want to see you and Posy as much as I can. You still want to see me, don’t you?’
‘Do you need to ask?’
Well, yes, she did, but she couldn’t say so.
They had a pleasant chat after that, a bit stilted in places, but that was only to be expected; and later, when Posy saw her at the school railings, she hurled herself at her, not minding at all that she had come to collect Alf. Posy was such an easy child.
And to prove it, when they were back in Wilton Lane, Posy offered, ‘I’ll bring Alf home for you in future. That way, I can come and see you every day.’
Was there ever a dearer child than this? Leonie looked round to make sure neither of the Hibberts was in earshot. ‘On Fridays, I’ll have a quarter of caramels waiting. One each for you three children and one for you to take home for Saturday. It’ll be our secret.’
‘You’re a marvel,’ said Posy. ‘I wish—never mind.’
‘I wish an’ all, but things are the way they are.’
‘What about the fifth caramel? Will you have it? You should, as thanks for being a marvel.’
‘I think Mrs Hibbert should have it. She’s a marvel an’ all.’
‘She’s your marvel,’ said Posy, ‘and you’re my marvel.’
And right then, with Posy’s eyes shining at her, full of love, Leonie was a marvel. She tried to cling to the feeling, but soon she felt like a wrung-out dishcloth again. But Nell had made her welcome, and she was on reasonable terms with Hilda, and Posy loved her. Count your blessings.
Tomorrow she would pop in on Mrs Watson. They had lived next door to one another all these years and been good neighbours. But she wouldn’t go during the day; she didn’t want to be accused of haunting Finney Lane. She would go in the evening. She and Mrs Watson often used to snatch a quiet hour together in the old days when the kids were in bed and their husbands were enjoying a pint, and they had carried on with their evening visits once or twice a week until Hedley was so ill, so dropping round was something she would have done anyroad.
Except that, if she had stayed in her old house, she wouldn’t have done it any more, because Edmund had wanted her in the parlour of an evening.
All the more reason to do it now.
Nell was out and about all Tuesday; and that evening, a neighbour came for a lesson, which made it a good time for Leonie to visit her old neighbour. Walking down Finney Lane, she kept enough of a smile on her lips to make her look pleasant and untroubled. Folk must be dying to tattle about how miserable she was and how awful the Tanners were, but if they did, it would be none of her doing.
Her smile froze as her old front door opened and the Tanners spilt out.
‘Gran!’ called Posy.
‘Good evening, Mother-in-law,’ said Edmund. He sounded pleased to see her. He could afford to be pleased, couldn’t he, now he had got shot of her.
‘Were you coming to see us?’ asked Hilda.
‘No, but I’m glad to catch you. There are some things of mine still in the house.’
‘Only the furniture,’ said Edmund, ‘and I understand it’s staying until such time as Mrs Hibbert’s house is no longer riddled with damp.’
‘It isn’t riddled with damp.’ Leonie stopped. She mustn’t rise to the bait. ‘Some small things were left behind, the ones you took into safekeeping.’
‘Oh, those, yes. Don’t worry. They’re secure where they are.’
‘I’d like to have them back.’
‘What do you say, Hilda? It was worrying when your mother sold that vase, that heirloom, for no good reason.’ Edmund’s brow crinkled into a friendly frown. ‘Trust me, Mother-in-law. We had to put those items into safekeeping because you were upset and it made you unreliable. Who knows what else you’d have sold?’
Her ribs squeezed her heart so hard they nearly smothered it. ‘I’m not upset now.’
He laughed indulgently. ‘Upset enough to move out. Let us do this for you. All we care about is what’s right for Gran – hey, Posy?’
Posy nodded. ‘Yes, Dad.’ Did she think her father was acting for the best?
Leonie summoned up a brave smile specially for Posy. ‘Are you going for a walk?’
‘Would you care to join us, Mother-in-law?’ Edmund offered.
‘Another time.’ When hell froze over. ‘I’m on my way to Mrs Watson’s.’
‘Perhaps you’ll call on us next time,’ said Edmund. ‘There’s always room for you at my table.’
At his table? His table? Hedley bought that kitchen table in 1887. The drop-leaf table in the parlour was hers an’ all, inherited from Auntie Mary. The only table Edmund owned was the one they had brought with them from Withington; but she couldn’t say so, because she needed to keep on good terms with Hilda and she wanted to keep everything smooth and easy for Posy.
Nay, that wasn’t the reason. Well, it was, up to a point. The real reason was because Edmund would get the better of her. He would get the better of anyone.
It was wonderful having Leonie living with them. Sad, obviously, when you thought of how it had happened; but even so … wonderful. Nell felt guilty for appreciating it so much when Leonie was in such a distressing situation, but she couldn’t help herself. In the weeks since she and the children left Finney Lane, child-minding arrangements had taken up residence at the forefront of her mind and she had farmed Alf and Cassie out non-stop, or so it seemed. If she wasn’t hurrying them round to Annie’s, she was rushing them down the road to Mrs Clancy’s; so unlike the past two years with the Brents, when they had been cared for without leaving the house.
Now, with Leonie in their little household, the children already had a settled routine, and this was only the second Monday. Nell felt settled too. She might even stop feeling like a bad mother.
But what a price Leonie had paid. Nell hoped that the children’s devotion would help her come to terms with her new life.
Alf had stumbled over the name Nana Leonie the first few times, but now rattled it off so quickly Leonie said, ‘You make me sound like an Italian ice-cream seller,’ and ‘Oh, Oh, Antonio’ became their new bedtime song, with Alf jubilantly bellowing the final line, ‘Then
UP will go Antonio and his ICE-CREAM CART.’
‘Hm,’ said Nell wryly, ‘it’s not exactly a lullaby, is it?’
‘You won’t go away, will you, Nanaleonie?’ begged Alf. ‘Not like Antonio and his ice-cream cart.’
Nell and Leonie exchanged glances.
‘No, pie-can.’ Leonie tucked him in. ‘I’m here to stay.’
Nell spent Wednesday’s half-day closing with Mrs Liversedge’s friend Miss Vine, who was eager for private tuition. It was a shame to miss her afternoon off, but earning extra was important too; and with all due respect to Annie, she felt better about leaving the children with Leonie, her adopted aunt.
Miss Vine’s lesson went well and Nell returned home feeling heartened. She greeted the children with hugs and dropped a kiss on Leonie’s cheek. Leonie put her fingers to her skin and Nell couldn’t tell if she was pleased or not.
‘I hope you don’t mind, only if my mum lived here, I’d kiss her; and you’re my aunt now.’
Leonie smiled, a proper smile that plumped her cheeks and crinkled her eyes, not the brave, empty smile that Nell had seen too many times since she moved in ten days ago.
‘This came by the one o’clock post.’ Leonie reached for a postcard.
It was a couple of lines from Miss Collier, dated Wednesday, 9 a.m.
Please attend this afternoon to explain the item in yesterday’s Evening News. I will expect you at 4 o’clock.
‘Four o’clock?’ Nell glanced at Leonie’s carriage clock that stood on the kitchen mantelpiece, though she didn’t need to look. She knew it was gone five.
‘I didn’t know what to do. I knew you were going straight from Mrs Edge Lane to your new lady.’
Nell tried to shrug it off. ‘It’s my afternoon off. They can’t expect me to be at home to collect the post. I’m due in the sewing department tomorrow, so I’ll see her then.’
But she felt uncomfortable. She hadn’t been here because she had been teaching her first truly private client. Her conscience gave a twinge. Why was she required at such short notice, anyroad?
A Respectable Woman Page 22
