Jim hung back, smiling a message to Roberta.
‘This is naughty of you,’ she said when they were alone. ‘What will the others think?’
‘If they aren’t sure, I’m sure Patsy will tell them.’
‘That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?’ But she was obviously pleased. ‘Darling Patsy. She longs to see you back in your proper social setting.’
She sat on the sofa and patted the space beside her, but Jim went to the window, standing with his back to it.
‘Oh dear, have I done something wrong?’ she cooed.
‘No, you haven’t, but I’m afraid I have. I should never have let things—’
She was on her feet in a flash. There was steel in her eyes, but the next moment she came towards him, smiling and fragrant. ‘Don’t say that, James. You’re just having a little panic. Is it a bit much, having Don and Patsy here? Two families, all cosy, almost like … one family.’ She glanced away, as if too modest to contemplate the implication.
‘Was it your idea to invite them?’
‘Of course not.’ A smile and a glance to the heavens, or was that just a way of not meeting his eyes? ‘Poor Mummy would be devastated if she knew she’d rattled you.’
‘I need to talk to you. I’m sorry, Roberta—’
‘No!’ She swung away from him, then back again. ‘You’re doing it again, aren’t you? Well, I won’t have it.’
‘I’ve changed from the man I was before the war.’
‘I understand about your window cleaning phase and I’ve forgiven you. Please be sensible.’ She moved closer. ‘I’ve changed too. Why do you think I started my scheme to clothe the poor children? I’ve developed a social conscience, just like you. We’re meant to be together. Why else would we have been thrown together as we were?’
‘We weren’t thrown. You made it happen.’
‘Can you blame me? Oh, the chance to see you again—’
‘You could have sought me out at any time during my window-cleaning phase, as you call it, but you chose not to. Roberta, I apologise. Meeting you again has been delightful and I’m sorry for letting things go too far—’
‘Don’t tell me: I was so delightful that you couldn’t help yourself. It won’t do, James. What did you imagine would happen to me when you dumped me? Did you think I’d waltz straight into another man’s arms? Believe me, I wanted to, but there’s a shortage of men now and I’ve no intention of spending the rest of my life as my father’s daughter.’
‘Is that why you wanted me back? Any man will do?’
Her hand flew up and cracked him hard across the face. For a moment, he felt nothing, then a stinging sensation bloomed inside his cheek. Roberta’s eyes were hard and narrow.
‘You’re right, James. You have changed. You’ve turned into a fool. You could have had the perfect wife. Why else do you imagine I’ve got my maid hacking old clothes to pieces to make things for the poor? I even took to wearing that stupid straw hat because you always liked straws. You look shocked. You don’t imagine I wanted to do those things, do you? God, you’re impossible!’
‘I think I should leave.’
She grasped his arm, her nails sinking into his sleeve. ‘Oh no, you don’t. You’re going to spend the evening here. You’ll laugh at Daddy’s ghastly jokes and smile modestly when everyone toasts your success; and tomorrow I’ll tell Mummy I turned down your proposal.’
‘As you wish.’
‘And when Daddy offers you a job tonight, you’ll say no.’
‘I’ll go along with the social requirements, Roberta, but I won’t be told what to do professionally.’
‘You cannot work for my father,’ she hissed.
‘I have my own ideas about my future in the legal system. We’ll see what your father says about them.’
‘You’re going to do something lower class, aren’t you?’
‘If I did, would you still want to marry me?’
Her hand shot out again, but he was too quick for her. She glared at him and wrenched herself free, rubbing her wrist as if he had hurt her, though he knew he hadn’t.
She turned on her toes and went to the door. She looked back at him and her gaze was pure ice.
‘Don’t stand there like an oaf. You have your social duty to perform and you shall not, I repeat not, make a fool of me.’
Posy dozed off during the doctor’s visit. ‘She’ll be black and blue in the morning,’ he said, ‘but there are no broken bones, luckily.’
While Mrs Watson showed him out, Leonie watched over her beloved grandchild. Never mind being black and blue tomorrow, she was well on the way now. Lovely Posy, funny and spirited and full of big words, looked tiny and broken in the bed that had once been occupied by the Watson boys.
Leonie was awash with sorrow and concern and rage. Aye, and guilt. She had known about the stair rod; and even though it hadn’t been used today, the fact that it existed showed what kind of brute Edmund was underneath the smarm. She had removed the stair rod the day she moved out, and hadn’t she thought herself the clever one? She had known it would be replaced, but she had felt it was one in the eye for Edmund. More fool her.
Where was Hilda? She should be at her daughter’s bedside. Instead she had gone piking off next door and what was that about? Leonie knew Hilda had sent for the police, but what would they do, other than give Edmund a dressing-down for being too heavy-handed? You were allowed to hit your children. You were expected to.
Or had Hilda made herself scarce so as to avoid her own mother? Surely, in a situation like this, all differences should be set aside. Would Hilda be that petty? Did Hilda hate her that much?
The bedroom door opened behind her.
‘Look who’s come,’ said Mrs Watson.
Hilda! Leonie looked over her shoulder. In came Nell and a stranger, a beady-eyed woman the same sort of age as Leonie, but meatier, though at the same time her face had a gaunt, tired look. Mind you, Leonie’s face probably had that same look right now.
‘You’re Mrs Hibbert,’ she said.
‘This is Mrs Brent,’ said Nell. ‘I used to lodge with her and now we live together in Wilton Lane.’
‘And this’ll be your Posy I’ve been hearing about,’ said Mrs Hibbert. ‘Eh, poor little mite.’
She leant over Posy like the bad fairy in Sleeping Beauty. Leonie wanted to shove her aside. She didn’t want the mother of the villainous Stan anywhere near her precious girl. But then Mrs Hibbert looked up and the sight of her troubled eyes rattled Leonie’s defences. This was a mother, a grandmother, who understood the pain of watching a child suffer.
‘I’ll fetch chairs,’ said Mrs Watson.
‘Not for me,’ said Nell.
‘She’s getting rid of me,’ said Mrs Hibbert, ‘so she can fetch her children home. She doesn’t want me around.’
‘Who can blame her, after what your son did?’ Leonie retorted. The cheek of this one!
The Hibbert woman shrugged. ‘I’ve never held with measuring folk by what their relatives do.’
Leonie was about to say—well, never mind, because she suddenly pictured Posy being judged according to Edmund’s behaviour.
‘Mrs Watson says Mrs Hibbert can stop here for a while,’ said Nell.
‘Shouldn’t you be on the train by now?’ Leonie challenged the visitor.
‘I’m hoping to see my grandchildren, but that’s up to Nell.’
Behind her, Nell rolled her eyes. She eased herself forwards in the cramped space and leant down to murmur to Leonie.
‘Your Hilda needs you next door.’
‘She should be here with Posy.’
‘Believe me, she’d rather be here. I were round there a bit earlier and I had to leave because the police came to talk to her.’
‘About Edmund hurting Posy?’
‘It’s not my place to say, but she needs her mum.’
Nell slipped away, leaving Leonie feeling torn in two. What if Posy woke up and found neither her mum nor her gran at her
bedside?
‘You go, love,’ said Mrs Watson. ‘She’s safe with us.’
Leonie went downstairs and knocked next door. The door opened to reveal a bobby. She stepped forward but he blocked her way.
‘I’m Mrs Tanner’s mother.’
‘When we’ve finished questioning her, I’ll tell her you came round.’
Leonie might have been in two minds as to whether she should come, but being prevented filled her with determination. She stepped purposefully over the threshold. The copper made a move and she gave him the evil eye.
‘Lay one finger on me and I’ll scream blue murder.’
Hilda was sitting at the kitchen table with a man in a suit while a uniformed officer stood in front of the range with his arms folded. In that moment, Leonie knew that Edmund was gone. If he had been here, or if his influence had been here, Hilda and the policemen would have been in the parlour.
‘I’ve come to be with my daughter,’ she announced.
‘Mrs Brent?’ The man in the suit consulted his notebook. ‘Your box was stolen.’
‘Edmund took it,’ Hilda said dully. ‘He’s the thief. They’ve got proof.’
‘Edmund?’
‘You sound surprised, Mrs Brent,’ said the suit, ‘and yet I believe it was you who suggested him as the possible culprit.’
‘Only because someone saw a stocky man. I didn’t really think it was him.’ Edmund! It was hard to take in.
The suit stood up. ‘Thank you for your help, Mrs Tanner. We’ll speak to your daughter when she’s up to it. Mrs Brent, your belongings will be returned in due course.’
The officers saw themselves out.
Hilda and Leonie stared at one another.
‘So now you know,’ said Hilda. ‘We must get back to Posy. She’s what matters now. I’ll lock the back door and follow you in a minute. And Mother – thank you for coming.’
‘Of course I came. You’re my daughter. I love you, Hilda.’
‘I know,’ said Hilda. ‘I love you an’ all.’
Leonie would have liked a hug, but Hilda went to lock the door. Leonie returned next door with a full heart. She and Hilda had a lot to talk about – or did they? Had they simply gone back to normal?
She crept upstairs so as not to disturb Posy, only to find her awake, looking fragile.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Stiff and sort of not really here.’ Her mouth barely moved as she spoke and every time she swallowed she had to blink. ‘But it’s been interesting. I’ve been listening to this lady telling Mrs Watson about all Mr Hibbert’s wives.’
‘Didn’t you see she was awake?’ Leonie hissed at them.
‘Ma,’ croaked Posy as Hilda walked in.
‘Look who I found outside,’ said Hilda. She looked behind her through the open door. ‘In you come.’
Alf appeared, looking pouty.
‘I’ve run away,’ he said.
‘Oh!’ The exclamation came from Mrs Hibbert. She looked dazed, her gaze fixed on Alf.
‘Come here, chick,’ said Leonie.
She held out her hand and he came to her. She put an arm round him, angling him away from his grandmother. That poor woman needed time to recover. Lord, Nell would throw a fit when she found out Alf had stumbled across Mrs Hibbert.
‘What’s happened to Posy?’ Alf stared.
‘I was trampled by a runaway horse,’ said Posy.
‘I’d better take him home,’ said Leonie.
‘No! I don’t want to. Mum says Dad won’t come to see us any more, so I’ve run away. I don’t want to live with her.’
‘Alf, Mummy will be very unhappy if you don’t go back,’ Leonie began.
But Alf all too obviously didn’t care about that. ‘I want to live with Dad.’
Posy swallowed and blinked hard. ‘Your dad’s an arsehole.’
‘Posy!’ It was the combined cry of all the adults.
Leonie glared at Mrs Watson.
‘Don’t look at me,’ her friend retorted. ‘I don’t use language like that.’
Swallow, blink. ‘It’s what the big boys in the top class say. And he is an arsehole. He’s done bad things. It’s all right, Alf.’ Swallow, blink; a clicking noise in her throat. ‘My dad’s an arsehole too. He did this to me.’
‘You said it was a runaway horse.’
‘Posy,’ said Hilda, ‘that’s enough. You need to rest.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Alf. ‘I’ve still run away.’
‘Alf, listen to me,’ said Mrs Hibbert.
‘Who are you?’ asked Alf.
‘I’m—’
‘Mrs Hedley,’ said Leonie. ‘She’s Mrs Watson’s friend.’
Mrs Hibbert leant forward as if she might reach for Alf; Leonie braced herself to intervene.
‘Sometimes grown-ups do stupid things,’ said Mrs Hibbert. ‘Your dad loves you, but he did some things he shouldn’t have done, and he made a lot of people unhappy. He isn’t as good at being a dad as your mum is at being a mum.’
‘She said he was dead.’
‘Everyone does wrong things and everyone makes mistakes. She said that because she thought it was the best thing to do.’
‘No, she didn’t—’
‘Oh, but she did.’ Mrs Hibbert spoke with authority. ‘Hate her if you must, but don’t tell lies about her. I knew her before you were born, young man, and I know what a good person she is; and you know it too, I can tell. You know that it doesn’t matter how horrid you are to her, she’ll still love you and never turn away from you. I knew you when you were a tiny baby and your mum was the happiest, proudest mother I ever met.’
‘Was she?’ A stirring of interest.
‘She was, because she had you. She was unhappy before that, because all her family had died, but then you came along and made her happy again. I know she hurt you by letting you think your dad was dead, but you’re behaving as if everything she has ever done was wrong, and that isn’t fair. You’re more grown-up than that, Alf Hibbert.’
‘I’m six not next Wednesday, the Wednesday after.’
‘There you are, then. You’re a big boy. Your dad has done something bad and has had to go and explain to the police. So that leaves you and your mum.’
‘And Cassie,’ said Alf.
‘And Cassie,’ she agreed.
‘And Nana Leonie.’
‘And me,’ said Leonie, with a look that dared Mrs Hibbert to make something of it.
‘Are you going to go back to normal, Alf, and love your mum again?’ asked Mrs Hibbert. ‘Or are you going to carry on behaving like an arsehole?’
‘Mrs Hibbert!’ Leonie exclaimed.
‘I thought you said she was Mrs Hedley,’ said Posy. ‘And that’s interesting because Gramps’s name—’
‘Thank you, Posy,’ said Hilda.
Footsteps on the stairs, someone panting. Nell appeared.
‘Have you seen—? Oh, Alf ! I’ve got half the neighbourhood out looking.’
She stepped forward instinctively, then stopped. Leonie’s heart ached for her. He had rebuffed her so many times. But Alf launched himself at her, arms outstretched, and she bent to scoop him up with a cry of joy. He clung to her. She nuzzled his neck and when she finally looked up, her face was bright with happiness.
‘What brought this about?’ Nell’s voice was thick with tears.
Leonie indicated Mrs Hibbert. ‘She knew what to say.’
Nell turned to her mother-in-law. ‘Thank you, thank you.’ Giving Alf a final squeeze, she set him down. ‘We must go home. Goodness, you gave me a shock. I went to put Cassie to bed and when I came down, you were gone.’ She took his hand, then turned to Mrs Hibbert. ‘Perhaps you deserve a chance.’ She smiled, looking oddly shy. ‘Perhaps I do too.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
In Jim’s bedroom under the eaves, the warm night air was as dense as port wine, and as heady, thanks to the honey-rich scent of the sweet peas in the half-barrel outside the back door. He lay on to
p of his bed, his heart lighter than at any time since that fateful afternoon when Nell had told him about her marriage and shock had crushed all his hopes, swamping his feelings and shutting them down. Except they weren’t shut down, not really. He had thrown up a wall around his heart, which had allowed him to fool himself he could manage without her and making him vulnerable to Roberta’s beguiling advances. But the truth had brought him back to his senses.
Rolling off the bed, he stood at the dormer window. The ink-black sky was dotted with stars. How soon could he present himself at Nell’s door? He would cheerfully arrive for breakfast, but she would be mortified. He would do better to go to church and see Don and Patsy afterwards, as usual.
Pulling on his slippers and his old dressing-gown, he crept downstairs, trying to cause no creaks, and unbolted the back door. It was warm outside, but compared to under the eaves, it was refreshing.
Behind him, Mrs Jeffrey said, ‘Can’t sleep?’
He looked round. Beneath a shawl, her nightgown was buttoned all the way up her throat and she wore a lacy nightcap that covered not just her hair but the sides of her face and tied under her chin.
‘I’m not sleepy.’
‘You won’t be stopping here much longer, will you?’ she said.
‘What makes you ask?’
‘I’ve got eyes in my head. You’ve been Jim the window cleaner for a good spell now. Every now and then, you’d put on your fancy suit and go off somewhere; then you’d come back and be Jim again. But this is different, in’t it?’
He wanted to take her hand and tell her how right it had been, living here in her simple cottage, fortified as much by her acceptance as by her hearty meals. He wanted to say that, whatever happened, he would make it his business to watch over her just as she had watched over him.
‘Mrs Jeffrey, he said, ‘if you’d asked me that question this time yesterday, I’d have said yes, this is entirely different; but now I think – I hope – that things aren’t going to be quite as different as you imagine.’
Posy woke early, having slept surprisingly well, probably because of the tot of whisky Mrs Watson had given her last night. The whisky had smelt of burnt toffee and had frizzled the insides of her cheeks and taken the surface off the roof of her mouth before setting fire to her gullet. Before she dozed off, Posy had silently sworn a great big swear never to let a drop of the hard stuff pass her lips again.
A Respectable Woman Page 38
