Course, things had got worse between May and Ronald when Perce had upped and skedaddled just after she had arrived here last year. Right do that had been, she thought grimly. Throwing in his job and declaring he could do better joining forces with some of those pals of his who were no better than they should be. Bruce had reported only last week he’d seen Perce about town in a smart new suit and driving a motor car. He was dancing with the devil, that one. But the loss of his wage had hit the family hard and even when Eva had been taken into service, they’d still been hard pushed. Useless to say to May they weren’t as bad off as some, she didn’t want to hear it, but it was the truth nonetheless. Look at Sally and Abe, reduced to the Means Test with Abe having caught TB, and Kitty not able to accept a shilling rise without it being deducted from the family dole. Criminal, it was. Even the few pence bairns earned on a paper round was treated the same.
Muriel brooded on the cruel effect the Means Test was having for a minute or two and then her mind returned to her son once more. Should she come straight out and ask him? But what good would that do? Whether he was or he wasn’t, he’d deny it. Her brow wrinkled and her bony fingers plucked nervously at the satin eiderdown as they were wont to do if she was anxious. Who could it be? To her knowledge the only women he knew were the neighbours, apart from the couple of lasses in the office at his works, but he wouldn’t start anything with them, not under the nose of his father-in-law. And what woman in her right mind would dally with a married man with umpteen bairns anyway? They did, though, that was the thing. Her fingers reached for the glass of water on the little table by the head of the bed but in the dark her hand fumbled and the glass went flying.
‘You all right, Gran?’ Amy was up like a shot, her hair a black tousled halo in the dim light from the street lamp outside the window. Muriel always had the curtains slightly open, she didn’t like to sleep in pitch blackness.
‘Aye, aye, hinny, it’s only me water.’
‘I’ll get a towel.’
Amy felt her way into the kitchen; one of the economies May insisted on these days was no gas mantles being lit after they had retired for the night, except in a dire emergency. When Amy had mopped up the water on the table and floor she fetched her grandmother a fresh glass and plonked herself down on the edge of Muriel’s bed. ‘Do you want one of your pills, Gran?’
‘Aye, I might do, lass, if it’s not too much trouble. I’m sorry I woke you.’
‘You didn’t.’ Amy handed her grandmother one of the tiny white pills as she spoke. ‘I hadn’t gone to sleep.’
‘No? That’s not like you.You’re normally gone as soon as your head touches the pillow an’ I’m not surprised at it, workin’ all them hours on your feet. Mind, I know your uncle’s grateful for what you bring in to the house, lass, an’ it was right good of you to give ’em the tips an’ all after Perce was gone an’ they was strugglin’. I can’t believe what some of them folk give you, though.Your granda used to say it’s nature’s law that the rich get richer an’ the poor get poorer an’ though he weren’t right about much, he was about that.’ When there was no response, Muriel said quietly, ‘You got anythin’ on your mind, hinny?’
‘No. Yes. Oh, I don’t know.’ Amy hesitated and then said, ‘It’s nothing, Gran, not really.’
‘It’s enough to keep you awake, lass.’
‘But I don’t know if I’m imagining it.’
Muriel reached out her hand and patted Amy’s arm.‘You’re not much given to fancies so let’s hear it.’
‘It’s . . . Mr Callendar.’
‘Oh aye?’
‘Well, you know we talk sometimes an’ all that but he seems different lately.’
Muriel’s pulse quickened. ‘In what way, lass?’
‘It’s not so much what he says, although he’s told me all sorts of things about him and his family and they seem a bunch of cold fish, Gran. Not like him. But . . . well, I’m not sure but I think he likes me, you know, in that way. But like I said, I could be imagining it.’
Muriel didn’t think so. Listening to her lass’s chatter over the last twelve months and the way the owner of Callendars always singled her out and wanted to talk to her, she’d felt in her bones the man had his eye on Amy. If this Charles Callendar was above board, Amy would be in clover. If he wasn’t . . . But he hadn’t put a foot wrong thus far, or tried to take advantage of the lass. And Amy was bonny enough to capture any man’s heart, and she was blossoming more every day. Amy was too good for the lads hereabouts, that was for sure. She didn’t want her lass working her fingers to the bone and ending up with a couple of bairns hanging on her skirts before she was twenty. But how did Amy feel about this new development?
Trying to keep all trace of excitement out of her voice, Muriel said, ‘If he does like you, would that be a bad thing, hinny? Could you like him?’
There was a pause and then Amy said shyly, ‘He’s nice, Gran, and although he knows ever so much, he never makes me feel silly. He’s read so many books and he knows about everything. He loves music, proper music, I mean. He’s got a gramophone in his office now and sometimes when I take his dinner in to him at night he’ll talk about Liszt or Strauss or Wagner, whatever’s playing. He had Vienna Blood on tonight, Gran, and it was beautiful. Just beautiful.’
‘That’s nice, pet.’ Muriel wasn’t interested in Vienna Blood. ‘And you say he looks a bit like Gary Cooper?’ She had remembered Amy had said that in the early days and, looking back, that was probably when she first pricked up her ears about Amy’s employer.
There was a longer pause and Muriel wished she could see her granddaughter’s face clearly.
‘Aye, he does, he’s . . . very handsome,’ Amy said at last. ‘All the girls think so, so . . .’
‘So what?’ Muriel asked when the silence lengthened.
‘So he can take his pick. You know, of female companions. ’
Muriel decided on a little plain speaking. ‘That’s all very well but didn’t you tell me he wouldn’t have anyone but you bring his dinner at night? Even after he knew folk were gossipin’?’
‘But that was because they were gossiping and he doesn’t think you should give in to that sort of talk. But he comes from a different world. His people would expect . . .’ Her voice trailed away and there was a different note in it when she said, ‘Anyway, he hasn’t said anything so I don’t know why I’m talking about it.’ She slid off the bed as she spoke and returned to her put-you-up which creaked in protest as she lay down. ‘Night, Gran,’ she said softly.
‘Goodnight, me bairn. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.’
It wasn’t too long before Amy’s regular deep breathing told Muriel her granddaughter was asleep. She felt tired herself now; any conversation, however brief, had that effect on her, but from the moment Amy had laid down she had begun to pray. Not the jumbled kind of praying she did in her head all the time, praying that took in everything from Wilbur’s sojourn in purgatory to the ache in her big toe which had been giving her gyp lately, but concentrated, strong, focused prayer. Let everything come right with this Mr Callendar, God. Let him make himself plain, and soon. Oh, Mary, Mother of God, I can tell she likes him, I could hear it in her voice. She don’t dare believe he feels the same way, that’s the thing. Her poor mam had a rough deal all round and I want better for Amy, a life of comfort and ease, of being cherished and cared for. That’s not wrong, is it? To wish someone is loved? Please, Holy Mother, let me see the bairn settled before I go.
At just after half past six the following evening Muriel’s prayers were answered. Amy had just placed Charles Callendar’s tray in front of him, saying as she did so, ‘The soup is fish and vegetable tonight, followed by stuffed shoulder of lamb.’ She lifted the silver lid covering the main dish. ‘Looks lovely, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, it does.’ He didn’t even glance at the food but kept his gaze locked on her.
Amy had been smiling but now her face straightened. He watched the colour flood into her cheeks and she appeare
d flustered. ‘I’d better get back,’ she said quickly. ‘We’re short staffed tonight and—’
‘Please sit down for a moment, Amy. I need to talk to you.’ He rose from his seat, walked across to the gramophone and lifted the stylus off the record which had been playing. He came to sit on the side of his desk in front of her. She didn’t raise her eyes to his. ‘I want to ask you something and I would like you to speak frankly, as one friend to another. Do I appear a little ancient to you, over the hill, as it were?’
‘What?’
As she raised her eyes to his in astonishment, he had to smile at the expression on her face in spite of the fact he was all knotted up inside.Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it clearly wasn’t this.
‘No, of course not.’ She smiled as though it was ridiculous to even consider such a notion.
It was a start. His heart was beating like a drum and for the hundredth time since he had first set eyes on her he asked himself why she had such a profound effect on him. It wasn’t just her beauty, although with her maturing she was getting lovelier and lovelier, but Priscilla had been beautiful and he knew other women who were just as attractive. But even with Priscilla he hadn’t felt like this. Amy was staring at him and he cleared his throat. ‘Second question,’ he said in as light a tone as he could muster. ‘Do you think you could ever see me as more than just a friend and employer?’
She blinked.
‘I’ve asked you so many times to call me Charles when we are talking like this but you never do. You’re always so correct.’ He smiled, acutely aware he didn’t want to frighten her but that he had to know. He’d waited until her sixteenth birthday but every day since it had been more torturous and he couldn’t wait a moment longer. ‘I just wondered if this is because you want to keep a distance between us because anything beyond friendship is impossible, or whether it’s because you feel it’s a suitable way to behave.’
His voice was normal but as Amy gazed into his face she felt a trembling start deep inside at the look in his eyes. She had thought she’d glimpsed it once or twice before but then it had been veiled and unclear. Now it was there for her to see and it was thrilling. She tried to be circumspect but it was hard. ‘I suppose the latter. I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of your kindness.’
‘Kindness?’ He shook his head. ‘I haven’t been kind, Amy. I’ve been selfish, very selfish. I’ve put you in a position where you have been talked about and I shouldn’t have done. I knew this, there’s no excuse, but frankly,’ he leaned forward, taking both of her hands in his and she realised she wasn’t the only one who was trembling, ‘I couldn’t help myself. I love you, Amy. I think I loved you almost from the first moment I saw you. I know I’m older than you by some twelve years but I don’t feel that when we’re together. In fact, sometimes I feel I’m the sixteen year old.You’re so wise.’
‘Wise? I’m not wise.You know so much about everything, music, politics . . .’
‘That’s nothing, just information.’ He slid off the desk and stood up, drawing her out of her chair. ‘I’m talking about something you can’t be taught, something you either have or you haven’t and very few people have. And you’re strong, too, and pure and good. Oh, Amy,’ he pulled her closer into the circle of his arms, ‘do you think you could love me? Tell me, put me out of my misery. Could you?’
Since Perce’s assault she had wondered how she would feel if something like this happened, but she’d known if it was with Mr Callendar she wouldn’t panic. The delicious fragrance she’d noticed before when she’d been close to him was stronger now, mixing with the faint smell of cigar smoke on the fine twill jacket he was wearing. A little shiver spiralled up through her body but it was of excitement, not fear. She nodded shyly. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘Oh, my love.’
When his mouth descended and she found herself being held tighter than ever, she stiffened just for a moment, but then his warm firm lips moved from her mouth to her eyes, her ears, her chin, and she felt borne away on a dizzy enchantment. She had dreamed of being kissed like this, she told herself in wonder. Before Perce had spoiled everything, she had dreamed it could be like this. Her eyes closed and now when his mouth found hers again she was ready for his kiss, no longer merely compliant but beginning to kiss him back.
She felt him shudder, his voice thick when he said, ‘I love you, Amy, more than I have ever loved anyone. I’d promised myself I’d give you time to get used to the idea of being with me after I had declared my feelings, but frankly I don’t think I can. I care for you too deeply. I know you so well and you know all there is to know about me. I just have to ask you now, will you marry me?’ As her eyes widened in shock, he lifted one hand from her waist to tenderly stroke a wispy curl from her forehead. ‘I know I’m going about this like a bull in a china shop,’ he added ruefully, skimming her lips with the lightest of kisses. ‘Doing what I shouldn’t and rushing you.’
She stared at him. She was having trouble taking in that she was actually in his arms like this, perhaps because she had imagined it so many times in the last months before berating herself that she was being silly and that he didn’t like her in that way at all. She felt heady, exhilarated that a man like him, a cultured, handsome, wonderful man, wanted her. Loved her. She wanted to say yes a hundred times before he changed his mind and the magic bubble burst. Instead she found herself saying in a small voice,‘What about your family? Your mam and brother and everyone?’
‘What about them?’
‘Do they know about me?’
‘Does it matter?’ He smiled. ‘I know about you.’
‘You know what I mean,’ she said very seriously. ‘Would they approve of you marrying someone from . . .’ she had been about to say the working class but changed it to, ‘the north?’
He shrugged. ‘If you want the truth I doubt whether they would be particularly interested one way or the other.’ Her expression showed a mixture of surprise and disbelief. ‘Amy,’ he went on, ‘my experience of family life is very different to yours. As far as my parents were concerned, children are something you have to continue the family name. When my mother had provided two boys for this purpose she felt she had fulfilled her obligations. We, my brother and I, were brought up by servants, as both my parents had been brought up by servants. They didn’t consider this unkind or unfair, it was the natural way of things to them.’
‘It sounds very cold-blooded,’ she said quietly.
‘It was.’ He shrugged again. ‘My brother didn’t mind. I did. Anyway,’ he flexed his shoulders as though throwing something off, ‘say my name, Amy. I shan’t believe this is real until you call me Charles. It will seal the pact somehow.’
Many times in their talks together he had said something that seemed inordinately boyish, even naive, and it was in these moments she had found herself falling for him. She looked into his face and the trembling inside grew stronger. She loved him, she knew she loved him and she had done for a long time even though she’d told herself she didn’t because she had never imagined he would want her enough to ask her to be with him, to marry him, not with all the ladies who came in the restaurant and gave him the eye more often than not. She had resigned herself to the fact they would just continue to be friends. And yet she hadn’t really, she contradicted herself immediately. She had hoped. Oh yes, she had hoped. ‘I love you,’ she said softly. ‘I think I have for a long time.’
‘Charles,’ he prompted, his eyes glittering.
‘Charles.’ She giggled nervously.
‘And you’ll marry me? Soon?’
‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’
She couldn’t say anything more because he swept her right off her feet, cutting off her breath with the force of his kisses as he swung her round until they were both giddy.
‘I’m going to make you so happy, Amy. You’ve had a rotten deal of it one way and another, but all that will change now. And no more of these.’ He whipped off her little cap and apro
n despite her laughing protests. ‘From now on you’re going to be too busy preparing for the wedding and furnishing our home to think of anything else. But don’t worry, until we’re married and you leave your uncle’s place, your aunt will get her pound of flesh by way of your wage packet each Friday. We don’t want to upset the apple cart, do we!’
It was going to be upset anyway. Aunt May would be spitting bricks at her good fortune and Eva would be pea-green once she heard the news, but Amy wasn’t going to think of them now. Now she was going to be kissed again and that was all that mattered.
Charles insisted on taking her home in his car once they came up for air. He first called Mr Mallard into his office and told the manager Amy had done him the great honour of agreeing to become his wife, an announcement Mr Mallard took calmly in his stride, despite the fact he was already one waiter and waitress down in the restaurant. Indeed, he seemed to have been expecting it.
‘May I offer you both my warmest congratulations,’ he said with something of a wry smile, ‘and best wishes for the future.’
The Rainbow Years Page 15
