Better Days Will Come

by Pam Weaver

‘I don’t want to talk about it, Mum,’ Rita interjected. ‘You always try to put a dampener on me and Emilio. I can never understand why. He’s kind and gentle and he treats me very well.’

  Grace felt uncomfortable. Could it be that Rita still didn’t understand about Emilio? ‘Did you ask him where he was, while he was away?’

  ‘No,’ said Rita defensively. ‘Why should I? I trust him. Besides, he’s already told me he’s learning all about the fishing around here. He wants to be the best fisherman along this part of the coast.’

  Grace felt her stomach fall away. Dear Lord, Rita really didn’t know. She should have been more explicit with her. ‘Darling,’ Grace began again, ‘you don’t understand …’

  ‘No, Mum, it’s you that doesn’t understand,’ said Rita. ‘Look, it’s our first night together for ages. I really don’t want an argument.’

  Grace nodded sadly. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ She’d have to make sure they had time together and then she would explain. Of course her daughter didn’t know Emilio’s preferences. She was an innocent.

  Rita stood up and went into her mother’s arms. ‘Was it awful with Granny?’

  ‘No,’ said Grace softly. ‘She was old and tired and she was ready to go. In the end, it was very peaceful.’

  ‘She was a funny old thing,’ said Rita. ‘I’m not sure she liked us very much.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ said Grace. ‘She loved us more than we could have ever known. One day I shall tell you about the sacrifice she made.’

  There was a sharp knock at the door and they heard it open. Manny’s voice called out, ‘I’ve brought your box, Grace.’

  ‘I’d better go,’ said Grace, squeezing her daughter one more time. ‘Shall I get fish ’n’ chips for tea?’

  ‘Rather,’ Rita enthused. ‘It’ll certainly make a change from Aunt Rene’s boiled cabbage.’

  ‘Grace?’ Manny sounded impatient.

  ‘Coming, Manny,’ and laughing, Grace ran downstairs.

  There were only four and a half shopping days to Christmas and so much still to do.

  Rita was home and Snowy presented her with a brand new rent book. What was even more wonderful, thanks to the Fair Rents panel, she was paying 5/- a week less than she had been.

  Grace set about everything with a purpose. She left a list of things at the counter of Potter and Bailey’s and asked for the boy to bring them round in the afternoon, then she walked to the bus stop to catch the bus into town. She passed Archie’s shop on the way. Michael’s chair was still in the window. It was still in one piece but it had been neatly divided into two sections. One side was still exactly the same as when she had sold it to him but the other arm had been completely restored in the burgundy leather. It looked wonderful.

  She slowed her footsteps as she caught sight of it and her heart lurched. She was filled with a mixture of emotions, chief of which was the poignancy of Michael not being here any more. She’d never ever forget him but it didn’t hurt as much as it had done. Like her mother, he was gone forever. She remembered curling up on the chair with the girls when they were younger and telling them stories of princes and princesses and happily ever after.

  When she pushed a thank you note for the rent book through the letterbox, she looked up and Archie was watching her. Her whole body still yearned for him and she found herself making as if to go into the shop. All at once she stopped herself. Archie had a customer. A man, who had been bending over a chesterfield couch and running his hands along the refurbished leather, stood up and opened his wallet. He began counting a lot of notes on the counter, until he noticed Archie’s attention was elsewhere. The man turned to look, a slow smile touching his lips. He glanced back at Archie then back at Grace. It was Norris. As Grace turned away in disgust, she was aware of Archie’s puzzled expression as he saw Norris blow her a kiss.

  It was a shock later that day when Grace opened the door and Norris stood on the doorstep. ‘Anyone here with you?’

  She stepped back, her clenched fist pressed over her mouth as he walked in uninvited. She’d never seen him like this before. He looked like a man possessed.

  ‘I suppose you’ve heard that the boy’s father is here, in Worthing,’ he blurted out.

  Grace didn’t know what he was talking about but she was too terrified to speak.

  ‘If you want me to keep quiet about your daughter,’ he growled, ‘you’d better tell me where you’ve put the letter my father wrote to you before he died.’

  Grace tried bluffing. ‘Letter, what letter?’

  He hit her across her ear with such force it sent her crashing into the small table which stood against the wall. The vase in the centre wobbled precariously for a few seconds before it went crashing to the floor.

  ‘You know what I’m talking about, woman. Where is it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she wailed. ‘I haven’t got it. Bonnie took it with her.’

  ‘Coo-ee,’ Elsie called over the back wall. ‘Is that you, Grace? Everything all right?’

  They stared at each other in shocked surprise.

  ‘If I find out you’ve been lying,’ he hissed.

  ‘I haven’t,’ she protested.

  ‘I’m here to warn you, Grace Follett,’ said Norris, using her maiden name and jabbing at her arm with his finger, ‘you keep your big fat trap shut. D’you hear me?’

  She stepped back as he poked her because it hurt so much and stumbled against the chair.

  ‘You tell them anything,’ he said, ‘and I’ll tell them you were caught rifling through my safe. Got it?’

  ‘Grace?’ Elsie’s voice came again. ‘Are you there?’

  ‘I’ll be out in a minute, Else,’ she called.

  Norris grabbed her wrist and pulling her arm back painfully, he repeated, ‘Keep quiet. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whimpered. ‘I understand.’ And then he was gone.

  Grace stared at the closing door and something dawned on her. He was just as scared of the police being involved as she had been. The bigger question was, why?

  Rubbing her wrist, she hurried to the back to see what Elsie wanted.

  Bob stopped by with a small present for Rita on Christmas Eve and she surprised herself by being pleased to see him. He was more good looking than ever since he’d come out of the army, more confident. Her mother made some excuse about getting some wrapping for presents and went upstairs. Rita didn’t ask him in or to sit down so they stood awkwardly near the open front door.

  ‘You look lovelier than ever, Rita,’ Bob smiled shyly.

  Rita felt her cheeks glow. ‘And you look so … so different.’

  ‘I came to ask you out,’ he said, suddenly emboldened. ‘There’s a dance at the Assembly Hall this Saturday. It’s a good band and they tell me the singer is pretty good too.’

  Rita’s eyes sparkled. How she would love to put on a pretty dress and dance the night away in the arms of a handsome man. She’d never asked Emilio if he could dance …

  ‘Rita?’ Bob’s voice brought her back to the here and now. His face was so eager she knew she’d have to let him down gently.

  ‘I’m sorry, Bob,’ she said, ‘I would have loved to have come but I can’t.’

  He turned with a pained expression and instinctively Rita reached out to touch him. Her hand froze in mid-air. She mustn’t. She shouldn’t do anything to encourage him.

  ‘Another time perhaps?’ he said looking right into her eyes.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice was thick and she swallowed hard. Why was she feeling like this? It was stupid. Emilio was the man for her.

  ‘There’s someone else, isn’t there?’ said Bob quietly.

  Rita held his gaze but couldn’t speak. She nodded her head and he turned away.

  ‘Then I wish you every happiness,’ he said stepping towards the small front gate.

  He didn’t look back. Rita watched him walk down the street, his back straight and his arms still
swinging as if he were marching. For the time being, the army still had a hold over him.

  As she watched him go, Rita felt strangely uneasy until her mother called, ‘Are you going to keep that door open all night? You’re letting all the heat out, Rita. Bring Bob in.’

  Rita returned alone and by the look on her face, it was obvious that her mother was disappointed.

  They were determined to enjoy their Christmas as much as they had done in the previous years. As usual, friends and neighbours stopped by on Christmas night and Boxing Day and Grace had the kettle on as soon as they walked through the door. It was so good to see all her old friends again. Uncle Charlie Hanson had more muscles than ever. His arms were so pumped up he had a job putting them close to his sides. He came with Snowy so Grace was sure they were still together.

  Miss Reeves had passed away, quite peacefully, so she was told, earlier in the year. She soon caught up with all the news. Hubbard’s was being enlarged. Soon it would be part of 14, 16, 18 and 20 South Street. The fight to save Beach House, a lovely old Victorian building on the East Worthing border had intensified, and the Christmas tree outside the Town Hall sported no less than three hundred Christmas tree lights this year. She thought of the song they’d sung through the war: When the lights go on again all over the world. It was happening at last.

  ‘I think I enjoy Christmas lights more than ever since the war,’ Grace smiled.

  ‘Bloody waste of money if you ask me,’ mumbled Elsie Dawson.

  Snowy had done well keeping an eye on the place. She’d used the postal order Grace sent each week to pay the rent. Grace’s gratitude knew no bounds. By helping her out in this way, Snowy had kept a roof over their heads. Snowy was her usual dismissive self. ‘Go on with you. It was nothing.’ She hesitated. ‘Funny thing though. I had the feeling someone had been round here once. Nothing was taken as far as I could see but the kitchen range was quite warm.’

  Grace pulled a face. ‘How odd. Perhaps the sun came in through the curtains.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Snowy but neither of them was convinced.

  ‘Maybe it was when Rita came back,’ said Elsie.

  ‘Rita came back?’ said Grace.

  ‘About a month ago,’ said Elsie. ‘She stayed a couple of days and went off again.’

  Grace would have taken it further but she was distracted by Manny Hart wanting a Mackeson Stout for old Mrs Oakley. They were all lined up on the floor in the scullery to keep them a bit cool. She took him out there and showed him where they were.

  Grace had splashed out on a lovely handbag for Snowy. After she’d unwrapped it and protested half a dozen times that she shouldn’t have done it, Grace caught her several times just looking at it with a smile.

  ‘Tell me about the factory,’ Grace asked cautiously as they washed up a few cups for another round of tea. She was really fishing to find out about Norris. Was he expecting to carry on using her or had he found some other woman to take her place? She wouldn’t wish him on her worst enemy but she hoped he wouldn’t want her to resume her ‘cleaning’ job. Anyway, there was no need to do it any more, not since she’d got the locket, but she didn’t fancy the argument and he’d become violent, something she’d never experienced before.

  ‘It’s ticking over nicely,’ said Snowy. ‘Oh, one thing you might like to know. He’s thinking of running for office.’

  So that was why Norris had come here to warn her off. What did he think she was going to say? She didn’t know anything about poor George’s death and she would certainly never voice her own fears. Grace’s heart went out to George’s father. How dreadful to find your missing son had been dead all this time. Her thoughts sprang to Bonnie and her stomach fell away.

  Snowy carried on regardless. ‘Mind if I have one of them sausage rolls? Did you make them, Grace?’

  Grace nodded.

  ‘They say the police are going to reopen the case,’ said Snowy.

  Rita dropped a glass and it shattered on the kitchen tiles. Everybody’s attention was directed to the glass as the women galvanised themselves into action to sweep it all up before one of the children cut themselves. The fact that her daughter’s face was bright red was not lost on Grace.

  ‘How about a game of musical statues?’ cried Rita, catching a glimpse of her mother’s wondering stare. The children cheered with excitement and Rita put a record on the old gramophone.

  Later, at midnight, when everyone had gone home, Grace decided to tackle the subject of George Matthews. Rita was filling her hot-water bottle.

  ‘Do you know something about Bonnie that I don’t?’ said Grace, coming straight to the point.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Rita said indignantly but her face was colouring again.

  ‘You were quite upset when Snowy talked about George’s father turning up,’ said Grace. ‘Was Bonnie stepping out with him?’

  Rita laughed. ‘Oh, Mum, that’s so old fashioned. Nobody steps out these days.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ said Grace irritably.

  Rita sighed. ‘I did hear that she was seeing him.’

  ‘Who told you?’

  Rita hesitated. ‘Dinah.’

  Their eyes met. ‘I should have told you sooner but that’s all I know, Mum,’ said Rita quickly. ‘Honest.’

  Grace nodded. It wasn’t enough but she’d have to be satisfied.

  ‘There’s something I have to tell you, Mum,’ said Rita cautiously. ‘It’s about me and Emilio.’

  ‘I do wish you wouldn’t hang around that boy so much, Rita,’ Grace began.

  ‘You can wish all you want, Mum.’ Rita said sharply, ‘but from now on I’m going to be hanging around him all the time.’

  ‘You’re wasting your time with him,’ Grace frowned. ‘You’re just a young girl. You don’t know the world like I do and I’m telling you, he’s not the marrying kind.’

  ‘Well, that’s just where you’re wrong, Mum,’ Rita said. Her voice was raised and she had developed two bright pink spots on her cheeks. Her eyes were flaming with indignation. ‘He is the marrying kind. In fact, Emilio and I got married just last week, so there.’

  For a split second, Grace couldn’t grasp what she’d just said.

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘You’re too young. You have to have my permission to get married.’

  ‘Not if you go to Gretna Green!’ Rita shouted.

  They stared at each other for several seconds and then Grace said. ‘Oh Rita, please tell me you didn’t do that.’

  ‘I did,’ Rita said defiantly. She went to the cutlery drawer and pulled it open. Her wedding certificate was under the inner tray.

  Grace lowered herself into a chair as she took it with a trembling hand. ‘Oh, darling …’

  ‘College exams finished in November. You only stayed on for interviews,’ she said. ‘Emilio and I went straight to Gretna Green. We had to stay there for three weeks before we could do it.’

  Grace shook her head. ‘No, no …’

  ‘I don’t understand why you hate him so much,’ said Rita petulantly. ‘When he comes to live with us, he can help around the house. You wanted to redecorate in here, well, Emilio can do it for you. If you try and like him I’m sure we’ll all get along famously, Mum.’

  ‘He’s not coming here,’ Grace blurted out and seeing her daughter’s shocked look added in a more conciliatory tone, ‘Look, I don’t hate him, but where is he now? Why isn’t he spending his first Christmas with his wife?’

  ‘He went to see his friend Jeremy,’ said Rita innocently. ‘Ever since he was called up, he’s been ill, poor man. They’ve even chucked him out of the army now, so Emilio went to help out.’

  Grace put her head onto her hand. ‘Look,’ she said, looking at Rita and pulling herself together again. ‘I’m sure if we ask someone we can do something about it. You don’t have to stay married to him.’

  ‘Mum!’ cried Rita.

  ‘He won’t make you a good husband. You see
…’

  ‘Since when have you been such a bloody expert on men?’ Rita shrieked.

  Grace was both horrified and furious. Neither of her children had ever spoken to her like that, and she certainly had never heard either of them swear.

  ‘How dare you!’ she cried as she jumped to her feet and slapped Rita across the face.

  They glared at each other and then Rita flounced off into the scullery. A couple of seconds later she threw something across the kitchen table. ‘At least I had the decency to get married before I jumped into his bed.’

  Grace turned to see what it was and her heart nearly stopped. Filthy dirty, and torn, it was the midnight blue dress Norris had given her that first time.

  ‘Rita,’ she began, her face flaming with embarrassment. ‘Listen to me. I can explain …’

  ‘D’you know what, Mum,’ said Rita, her eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘I don’t think I can be bothered to listen. Why should I? You never listen to me.’

  ‘This is not the same thing,’ said Grace, desperately trying to find some middle ground. ‘I was put in an awkward position.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ Rita sneered. ‘I hope you enjoyed it.’

  ‘Don’t be so crude,’ Grace snapped. ‘How can you talk like that? I’m your mother …’

  ‘Right now, I wish that you weren’t my mother,’ said Rita, going to the stair door. ‘He gave you that dress, didn’t he? I remember the day he came into the shop to buy it, and how rude he was to Miss Bridewell. Does it look nice on? I bet it does. It cost a pretty penny too. I can’t quite remember how much but it was something in the region of forty guineas. You must have done something pretty amazing to get that, Mum. Most girls around here only get a quid a time, but I guess you’d get a lot more being Norris Finley’s tart!’

  She slammed the door so hard behind her, it flew straight back open again. Grace listened to the sound of her angry footsteps going up the stairs and then her bedroom door slammed shut too.

  Left alone downstairs, Grace sat at the table and put her head in her hands. What was happening in her life? What more could go wrong? Bonnie had been gone more than two years now and the pain of her loss was as keen as it had ever been. As she tried to piece together what surrounded her disappearance, she was gathering a shed-load of fear along the way. The fear that Bonnie had been in that factory the day George had died. Had she been the one who’d shut the door on him and left him in the cold? Did she kill that boy, unintentionally or – worse still – deliberately?