‘Maybe I’ve been too hasty,’ he said, looking at her for confirmation. ‘Everybody deserves a second chance, I think. Do you?’
Looking at his tormented face Marie remembered Nancy’s boast that he wouldn’t be able to withstand her tears. How right she’d been, and how calculating. Nancy would hate her for it if she ever found out, but weighing her cold-blooded manoeuvring against his genuine feeling, Marie decided she couldn’t really give a ringing endorsement to the idea of second chances in this instance, even disregarding her indebtedness to George. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘if they really are truly sorry, and they’re fully prepared to make amends, maybe. But you’d have to think about it very, very carefully, George.’
‘That bloody actor’s got all our money, you know. All our savings. She says she’d try to get it back from him, but she doesn’t know where he is.’
‘Surely there are ways of finding people,’ Marie said. ‘You sometimes hear of solicitors setting private detectives on, in divorce cases and suchlike. He’ll have to work and make a living, I suppose, unless he’s giving himself a holiday on your money. Even so, he’ll have to go back to work sometime. They might be able to find him through theatrical agencies or actors’ guilds, things like that.’
George nodded. ‘I’ll ask the lads in the Legal Department. I’ll ask them what it costs. If we can find him, she can make amends by prosecuting Monty, and getting all our savings back. I can’t stomach the thought that the blighter’s got away with it. He’s a thief. He’s stolen everything I had, and not only the money.’
‘There’s Nancy’s mother’s rent, as well,’ Marie said. ‘She might be willing to share the cost of finding him, if it’ll get her rent for her.’
‘I doubt it. I don’t think she’ll want to throw good money after bad. And deep down, I don’t really think we’ve got a cat in hell’s chance of finding him.’
‘To be honest, George, neither do I,’ Marie said, ‘but if it doesn’t cost too much, it might be worth a try.’
George’s face fell. ‘And you know, Marie, even if we do get back together, I don’t know whether I’ll ever be able to trust her again. Nothing will ever be the same. Ever.’
Marie could think of nothing to say to that, except: ‘I’ll go and fill the watering cans.’
‘No, I’ll do that. You’re not fit to carry them, with two cracked ribs. You go back, and have a rest till you’re properly fit. I shouldn’t really be pestering you with my troubles, after what you’ve been through. You’ve got enough of your own, I reckon. Oh, before I forget, this came for you yesterday.’ He pulled a letter out of his pocket.
She took it. ‘Thanks, George. Pull some of that rhubarb and take it for your mam, will you? There’s loads of the stuff.’
Weeding and watering done, Marie tucked her letter in her pocket and carried the hoe back, feeling quite upset about George. At Park Avenue she had the house to herself, so she put the wireless on, then sat down and opened her letter. Charles was full of news about life in the army, which he seemed to be enjoying. He would keep trying to get leave, and was forever asking for radio requests, so she should keep listening to the wireless. He was glad she was going to live with his parents, and on his next leave they’d get married and get somewhere to rent, so at least her mother would have somewhere comfortable to be discharged to. As far as George went, he wrote:
He’s as vindictive as he is precisely because Nancy never gave him a thought. She seems to have acted as if he didn’t exist. She did what she wanted to do, and his feelings didn’t come into it. He was irrelevant. Nobody can stomach that, can they? However much they’ve idolized somebody. Unless they’ve got absolutely no self-respect. Or they have some other motive, like wanting to get their fingers on an heiress’s fortune, and I don’t think Nancy falls into that category. Leave them to it. Don’t get involved. You’ll get no thanks for it, from either party.
She poured her heart out in a letter back to him, confiding George’s present dilemma and telling him how wise was his advice to keep out of other people’s business – but how impossible it was to carry out at times.
Apart from occasional contact with Hannah, life at the Elsworths’ was very comfortable, but with every passing day, Marie missed her own home more. Welcome though Mr and Mrs Elsworth made her, and comfortable though life in Park Avenue was, it lacked the deeper comfort of old, familiar possessions and old routines, and the time-honoured, taken-for-granted ways of doing things unique to the Larsen family. The closest she could get to that was to go again to the Maltbys’, to familiar surroundings and links with her childhood, reminders of those happier times. Everything she knew seemed to be disappearing, making her want to cling on to old haunts and familiar habits as if to life itself. For now, at least, Aunt Edie and her house were still the same, and after seeing George at the allotment, she had dropped by a couple of times to give them the latest about her mother’s progress. Mr Elsworth had picked Aunt Edie up to take her with them on their latest visit to the hospital, and Marie’s mother accepted Aunt Edie’s offer of a home after her discharge.
After dropping Aunt Edie off, Mr Elsworth left Marie at Park Avenue and went on to his car repair shop. She found Mrs Elsworth was standing at the kitchen table, putting a few flowers in a vase. ‘The doctor says my mother should be ready for discharge in a week or two,’ she announced.
‘Does he, dear? That’s good,’ Mrs Elsworth said, with an abstracted air. Marie’s eyes followed her gaze towards Hannah, who was kneeling on the draining board cleaning the kitchen windows, and stretching to get into the corners with the wash leather. Marie was suddenly struck by the broadening of her once-trim waistline. How unobservant she must have been not to have noticed it before.
‘Thanks very much for your offer to have her here,’ Marie went on, trying to break her mother’s rejection of their invitation as tactfully as she could. ‘I told her, but she said she wants to go and stay with Aunt Edie. They’ve been friends for years, you see. Their house is like a second home to her.’
‘Did she, dear?’
The response was not exactly appropriate, but Marie was relieved that her news seemed to have given no offence. ‘It’s just that they’ve been friends for years,’ she stressed. A moment later she wondered if the news had penetrated at all.
Looking towards Hannah, Mrs Elsworth said, ‘I would say you’re about five months now, Hannah, at a guess.’
Hannah turned and stared at her, as if waiting for her to add something more.
‘Are you sure you can still manage the work?’ Mrs Elsworth asked, showing distinct signs of embarrassment under that unblinking stare.
‘As long as I can manage to eat, I’ll have to manage the work, Mrs Elsworth.’
Marie was surprised when, despite her own obvious discomfiture, Mrs Elsworth probed further: ‘But surely you get support from your husband?’
‘Well, whether I do or not, that’s between me and my husband.’
‘Of course. I only meant . . .’
Marie felt Mrs Elsworth’s loss of composure so excruciating that she interjected with a sudden: ‘How’s Jenny? I haven’t seen her for a while.’
Hannah’s eyebrows arched upwards, and she gave a sardonic little smile. ‘Very well, thank you, Marie. How’s Alfie?’
‘All right, thanks.’
‘Good. Well, I’ll just finish here, then I’ll do the bedrooms, and then I’ll be off, if that’s all right by you, Mrs Elsworth? So I can be in for Jenny coming home from school, you know. Get on with it, and get off home, that’s my motto.’
Five months? Marie thought. That put conception at the middle of January. But hadn’t Hannah’s husband had been away at sea then? Maybe not. Marie couldn’t really remember a lot of things since that awful night they’d been bombed out, although her memory of the bombing was sharp and clear. That, and being buried alive were the stuff of her recurring nightmares.
Chapter 21
On Sunday morning, after having spent an hour
convincing the Elsworths that she really was well enough, Marie borrowed their hoe and walked straight up to the allotment. George was not there this time, but there was another crop of weeds. She began to hoe in between the broad beans.
One of her old neighbours came by on his way to his own patch, and stopped. ‘All right, lass?’
She straightened up, and leaned on the hoe. ‘Just about, thanks.’
‘Bad job about your house. You’re staying up at Mr Elsworth’s now, aren’t you? Aren’t you going out with his eldest?’
She nodded.
‘He’s not a bad bloke, Elsworth. I used to work for him, years ago. Rum do about that Hannah, though, that goes up there to do their skivvying, ain’t it?’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, repelled by the knowing leer on his face.
‘I should think it’s obvious. I mean she’s in the family way, and it’s not her husband’s, unless he managed to shoot it across the Atlantic’
‘Oh,’ Marie said, turning to her work again. ‘Well, I can’t say I noticed. I’ve had a bit too much on my plate lately.’
‘You have that. I’ve seen the state of your house. You’re lucky to be alive, I reckon. Don’t you be struggling with watering cans. I’ll do the watering for you.’
‘Thanks. I won’t refuse,’ she said. ‘Hasn’t it been peaceful, lately? How long must it be since we had an air raid, do you reckon?’
‘Well, since they did that bit of damage at St Andrew’s Dock and Priory Sidings at the end of last month, it must be over three weeks. And that hardly counts. There were no fires blazing, and not much damage at all. One unexploded bomb, though, to keep the bomb disposal lads on their toes.’
Marie shuddered. ‘I don’t envy them their job. I’d rather keep a safe distance from bombs, thank you very much. Have the Nazis forgotten about us, do you think?’
‘Doubt it. They’re busy with the Russians now, by all accounts. Don’t you read the papers? Don’t you listen to the wireless?’
‘Course I do. I live for the wireless. Not the news, though; it’s usually too depressing, hearing about all the bombing in London and Coventry, although I like to hear Alvar Lidell telling us how many German bombers have been shot down. We never get a mention, though. It wouldn’t be so bad if we ever got any credit for what we have to put up with, but we never do. I like programmes like Music While You Work, and It’s That Man Again, something to brighten you up a bit. And we always tune into Radio Hamburg to listen to Lord Haw-Haw. He’s hilarious. We always have a good laugh at him.’
He grinned at her, eyebrows arched and eyes twinkling. ‘Germany calling! Germany calling!’
The expression on his face was so comical, and the intonation so exact that she burst out laughing, with no sharp twinge of pain in her ribs to stop her.
‘Let’s go and sit in the rose garden,’ Marie said as she and Nancy walked across to Pearson Park later that afternoon. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the park full of people in their Sunday best, children on swings and slides, young lads with their shirtsleeves rolled up, playing football on stretches of green, older folk sitting on the benches, all out to make the best of a fine day.
‘I’m fed up,’ Nancy said, when they were finally seated on a bench, looking at a bed of roses. ‘Absolutely stalled.’
‘Minty hasn’t been in touch, then,’ Marie quipped. She quickly regretted it.
Nancy had dark rings around her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept for a week. Her voice was thick with tears. ‘His name’s Monty, and no, he hasn’t. George has set a private detective on to him, though. He says it shouldn’t take long to find him, and then he wants me to take him to court.’
‘That’s good, surely,’ Marie soothed her, keen to make amends. ‘You might get some of your money back. You might get your ring back, if he hasn’t already sold it.’
‘I don’t think we’ll get anything back. And Monty might just put all the blame on me. And if it gets to court, my name will be mud, all over Hull. George will hear a lot of things that will put him off me for the rest of his life. It’ll be a disaster, and as far as the money’s concerned, we’ll get nowhere.’
Marie shook her head. ‘What a hero your Monty is, Nance. You threw everything away for him, and that’s how far you can trust him. But don’t despair just yet. If he tries putting all the blame on you, he’s lying. Your mother can testify to that; he waltzed off without paying his rent, remember.’
‘There’s something else,’ Nancy said. ‘I’m overdue. If I’m pregnant, I might just as well kill myself.’
Here’s half a dozen eggs for you,’ Marie told Aunt Edie the following Friday, standing in her tiny backyard. ‘Uncle Alf sent them. I borrowed Danny’s bike to go and see Mam, and called there on the way back.’
George’s eyes lit up. ‘Boiled eggs for tea then. Make a nice change. Then a rhubarb pie tomorrow, maybe.’
‘They’ve got a couple of elder trees; the clusters of flowers are as big as saucers, and I thought: I’ll have a few of them, they’re just ready to make some of that elder-flower champagne my mother used to do. Then I thought where will I get the sugar, now it’s on ration, and where will I get the lemons? And then where will I get the time? So I’ve abandoned that idea.’
‘How are they getting on with your Alfie? Has he settled all right?’
‘Yeah, he’s settled in the school there, but he’d rather be in Hull. Uncle Alf nearly came a cropper the other day, skating on marbles he’d left on the kitchen floor. They found a mouse in a shoebox he’d punched full of air holes in his bedroom the other day; he told them he was keeping it for a pet. He didn’t keep it long after Auntie Dot found it, though. And they can’t sit down for two minutes before he’s pestering them with, “Wanna play battleships?” She says it’s as much a catch phrase there as “Mind my bike” and “Can I do yer now, sir?” are on the wireless.’
‘Sounds as if he’s driving them mad.’
‘That’s what they say, but underneath, I think they love it. Alf says he’s brought the house to life. And I know what they mean. I really miss our Alfie; I used to get many a laugh out of his mischief. Lads are sometimes funny without meaning to be, aren’t they?’
‘I don’t know,’ Aunt Edie said. ‘George was always a good boy. I never had any trouble with him at all. How’s your mam?’
‘She’s a bit better. Sister says they might discharge her next week, if she keeps it up. But, you know, you can change your mind about having her here if you’re not sure you can manage. The Elsworths will make her welcome.’
‘No fear of that. I’m looking forward to having her. She’ll be good company for me, somebody nearer my own age.’
‘She might be too poorly to be good company, Aunt Edie, but I’ll come and help you with the work: washing and ironing, and everything. And I’ll go and fetch any shopping you want. I’ll give you her ration book, as well. As long as you’re sure.’
‘I’m certain, and I can manage most of the work, don’t worry about that. You could do something for me, though, if you wanted.’
‘What?’
‘I wish you’d teach George to dance. He should be getting out, among people his own age, instead of sitting in the house with me.’
‘Oh, now she’s going to have your mother for company, she wants to push me out of my own home,’ George joked.
Marie jumped up. ‘On your feet, then,’ she said. ‘We’ll start with a quickstep.’
But after half an hour of having her feet trampled on, Marie gave it up. ‘You’ve got two left feet, George,’ she said.
‘He’s never had the time for much going out, that’s what it is, and the concrete’s not a proper dance floor, it’s not slippy enough,’ Aunt Edie said. ‘He’ll never learn to dance on that. He’d do better on a proper dance floor. And there’s no music. Why don’t you take Marie to a dance hall, George, where she can teach you properly?’
George’s eyes lit up. ‘That’s not a bad idea of yours, Mother. I fancy a
decent night out, and I’m sure it would do you good, Marie. Forget your troubles for a bit. Have a bit of fun.’
Marie strongly suspected that if George went to any dance hall, Nancy would be invited as well. Marie had no relish for playing gooseberry, especially with things as dicey as they were between those two. ‘I don’t know what Charles would think to that,’ she demurred. ‘We’re supposed to be getting married on his next leave.’
Aunt Edie’s face was a picture of innocence. ‘Well, you’d just be dancing partners. There’s no harm in that, is there?’
‘Come off it, Marie,’ George scoffed. ‘I’ve seen you out dancing without Charles before, and I’ve seen him without you. Come on, I want to learn. What do you say?’
‘Well, if you’ve seen us, you obviously have been to dance halls, so why haven’t you learned?’
‘I didn’t go often enough, and when I did I was always one of the chaps who stand at the bar, hoping to get the last waltz with some pretty girl and take her home. That’s how I started courting Nancy.’
‘Huh!’ his mother snorted. ‘Let that be a lesson to you then, and be a lot more careful who you get tangled up with in future. It’s just a shame Marie’s spoken for.’
‘Come on, Marie, it would do you good, take you out of yourself. It’s Saturday tomorrow. There’ll be dances on at the Fulford, or Beverley Road Baths. And there’s a charity dinner dance on at the City Hall, proceeds to the Lord Mayor’s Homeless Fund. I’ll take you to that, if you like. It’ll do you good to get out.’
‘That’s hardly the place to teach anyone to dance, and the tickets will be too expensive,’ she said. ‘And I could do with getting something out of the homeless fund, never mind putting money I can’t afford into it.’
‘You wouldn’t be putting money into it, I would.’
Marie’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. No scrimping here. It sounded as if it really might be jam tomorrow, and that tomorrow might actually come. George had given a firm promise of jam, nothing vague about it.
Angel of the North Page 20
