‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea,’ Patsy protested. ‘I really have no wish to work for the Bertalones. Maybe it’s time I moved on. I don’t want to stay where I’m not wanted.’
Clara jumped as if she’d been scalded. ‘But you are wanted. Very much so! You must stay, Patsy. I won’t hear of your leaving. You don’t know what it’s meant to me - having you here. It’s very important to us – to me.’
Annie put out a hand. ‘Clara, please. This isn’t the time and . . .’
‘No, I want to explain. A monstrous thing happened to me once and I need you to see the effect it has had upon our lives, like a ripple through time. Patsy, sit down, please. Let me tell you. Let me open my heart to you so that you can understand why I want you to stay.’
Patsy found she was holding her breath, quite certain that Clara was about to confess at last that she was her mother, that she couldn’t bear to part with her a second time. The pain in her chest was crippling, yet she could do nothing to release the tension pounding within.
She could hear customers moving up and down the aisles of the market hall. The sound of their laughter, their comments to each other as they browsed among the hats, intruded upon her concentration as she breathlessly waited for Clara to begin.
‘Look at this one, Mabel, looks like our Betty’s swimming hat with strawberry pink petals stuck all over it. Just suit you that would.’
‘I can’t swim,’ Mabel said, and the two women fell into a fit of giggles.
Patsy wanted to shout at them to go away as she sat and waited, hot with impatience, hands clasped tightly together. Then just when she thought Clara was about to start, Annie interceded yet again.
‘This is neither the time nor the place, Clara, for personal discussion. We can continue it later, somewhere more private. In the meantime, have you remembered to tell Patsy about her letter?’
‘Oh, goodness me, no, I forgot. Oh, how remiss of me. Now where did I put it?’ Clara began searching through her pockets and her sewing bag.
‘Letter?’ Patsy too was instantly distracted and her eyes lit up. She’d stopped watching for the post ages ago, had half forgotten Shirley’s promise to make investigations through her grandmother’s solicitors. Now she felt tension bite as Annie walked over to a little side table to pick up the letter.
‘Here it is, where I left it this morning for you to give to her. It’s post-marked Liverpool. Do you know someone there, Patsy, or is that where you came from originally? We still know surprisingly little about you.’
Patsy said nothing. The envelope was long. Was that good or bad?
Clara said. ‘Give her the letter, Annie. I’m sure if Patsy wishes us to know what it contains, she will tell us.’
Annie turned the envelope over in her hands, again studied the postmark, and finally, reluctantly, handed it over. Patsy snatched it up and thrust it straight into her pocket. She knew it would burn a hole there till she had a chance to read it. But it was essential that she be alone when she did.
Chapter Nineteen
The ancient village of Gretna had been welcoming young lovers for centuries, drawn north by the power of their love. They would spur their horses over the border into Scotland where couples as young as sixteen could rush to plight their troth before two witnesses, with no clergy necessary. Nor was there any need to post banns or use a registrar. It was the blacksmith - one of the most important persons in the community before the age of the car - who officiated, using his anvil as the altar. Here, in his smithy shop, right in the centre of the village, he shaped young lives as easily as he moulded metal.
In more recent times it had become a requirement for the couple to spend three weeks together in the area. This was viewed as a cooling off period, a time for them to reflect and to become certain about what they were doing.
Already certain of the strength of their own love, to Amy and Chris three weeks sounded a long time. Time they could ill afford. Time enough for them to be found and brought home. So caught up were they in their fear of being discovered that they didn’t think to declare their presence to anyone, not even to the smithy who was supposed to marry them.
Their aim was to stay well out of the village itself, just in case someone should come after them.
They also knew there was no shortage of villagers willing to take advantage of the ‘trade’ in weddings, either by acting as witness to the hand fasting ceremony, or supplying accommodation to the hopeful young couple.
Chris carefully explained to Amy that they really couldn’t afford the luxury of bed and breakfast in one of the many hotels and boarding houses in the area that had sprung up for that purpose. He’d sold the watch his parents had given him for his twenty-first birthday in order to pay for petrol for his old Ford Prefect. From this he’d set aside a sum to pay for three nights bed and breakfast for their honeymoon.
Other than that, his savings were limited, and since Amy had even less money she happily agreed they must be careful. ‘It would be too risky anyway. The hotels and boarding houses would be the first place Mam would look, and at least we can sleep in the car.’
It was so exciting to be together at last, free from family restrictions. It felt rather like being on holiday and seemed a shame not to enjoy themselves so they drove around Dumfries and Galloway along quiet country lanes, admiring its craggy mountains, ancient castles and fine lochs, or exploring its enchanting gardens. They took a trip out to the Mull of Galloway and were entranced by the number of wild birds, and by the way the light changed over the shimmering sea.
Next, they took the opportunity to soak up some history by visiting Dundrennan Abbey, and listened to the stirring tale of how Mary Queen of Scots had spent her last night in Scotland there, before setting forth for England to face the dangerous ire of her cousin.
‘I wouldn’t much care to face Mam’s ire, if she ever caught up with us.’ Amy shivered to think of it.
They saw no one for those first few days but didn’t mind in the least, were content simply to be together, walking and swimming, lazing about in the sun, resting after their long journey and the trauma of their escape.
But the cost of petrol and oil alarmed Chris. He decided there must be something wrong with the car for it to use so much, and decided they’d best stop touring and park the vehicle up a country road, by a small patch of woodland.
The days grew hotter, too hot for them to sleep at night. Besides, it wasn’t very comfortable in the car. Whichever of them was taking a turn sleeping in the front had to wrestle with gear lever and steering wheel. Sometimes they would cuddle up together on the back seat which was lovely, kissing and making plans for a long and happy future, although not entirely conducive to a good night’s sleep.
Three days later they ran out of food. After ten days money became a problem. Chris still had the sum he’d set aside for the honeymoon but it was important they didn’t waste that on ordinary living expenses, which he’d gravely underestimated.
He decided that the car had become a liability and must be sold. He was disappointed with the price he got for it, and couldn’t help suspecting he’d been done, but was in no position to argue. If they carried on like this, they would run out of money completely and be unable to afford even food for the whole three weeks, let alone a honeymoon.
So the car as well as his birthday watch were gone, and they were both aware that they had nothing else left to sell.
Chris used the money he got from the car to buy food, lemonade, and two train tickets home. After that, they made themselves a little nest in the woods with the blanket and cushions, and prayed it would stay fine. It was at least cool beneath the trees, they could stretch out on the soft bracken and breathe in the sweet scent of bluebells and new grass.
Amy wrapped her arms about his neck and pressed her body to his. It felt so hard and strong, so powerful. She adored the way his greeny-grey eyes seemed to smile with great tenderness at her, even when he was being serious. She loved to smooth the ha
irs at the nape of his neck, kiss his wide brow, his nose, his chin, and tease his mouth till he opened it to snatch greedily at hers, unable to resist her kisses.
Even the smell of the sun on his skin excited her. Amy needed Chris to know how very much she loved him, and that she was more than willing for him to make love to her. ‘I don’t care about waiting. I want to love you now.’
But Chris was adamant that they wait. ‘What if something should go wrong and you accidentally got pregnant? How would we cope?’
‘What could go wrong?’ she said, unbuttoning his shirt. ‘I love you, and you love me. We’re to be married in less than three weeks, just over two in fact. What is there to wait for?’
The road to Gretna was paved with heartbreak. Many a young woman had hurried north to a promised marriage with her beloved, seduced in one of the inns along the way, and then been abandoned before the ceremony ever took place. Even if the young man's intentions were honourable, as Chris’s were, and the marriage did take place, on their return home family members would claim that the marriage wasn’t truly legal, since it hadn’t been blessed, and the scandal of what they’d done would haunt them for the rest of their lives.
Amy knew all about those other unfortunate women but was quite certain her own story would turn out differently. She had no fears that Chris would abandon her, or leave her pregnant and alone. He wasn’t that sort of man, and he loved her.
Chris, however, being older than Amy and striving to be sensible, remained cautious. He was desperate for nothing to go wrong.
‘Let me prove to you how much I love you. How much I want you,’ she said, climbing astride him. She tugged off her sweater, unhooked her bra, smiling at his dazed expression as he smoothed his hands in awed wonder over her bare breasts. Inside she felt shy, her throat tight and her heart racing, but she wanted him so much; longed for them to be happy. She pushed open his shirt and lay upon him as she kissed him, allowing them both the seductive pleasure of flesh upon flesh.
He gave a low groan. ‘I want you too, Amy. So very much.’ He gathered her in his arms, rolled her beneath him and began to kiss her in earnest with mouth and tongue, sucking her, devouring her as if he couldn’t ever get enough of her, and Amy’s heart soared with happiness. They’d had a difficult time this last week or so, but everything was going to be fine.
He captured her breasts, felt the soft weight of them in his hands, kissed the hardening nipples as she spread out her arms above her head in willing surrender.
And as she lay half naked beneath him Chris was overwhelmed by a wave of love for her, a tender urge to protect her. He loved the softness of her, the vulnerability, her tiny waist that he could span with his two hands, and the round curve of her small buttocks as he lifted and pressed her against himself. He stroked the mass of tumbling auburn curls back from her angelic face as he kissed her again and again. That’s what she was to him, an angel, one he mustn’t spoil, however much he might long for that sweet release. Oh, but he needed something. Every instinct cried out for him to make love to her.
He slid his hand between her legs, cupped the soft mound of her, gently awakening her to the knowledge of love, revelling in her soft moans of pleasure. He wanted to do so much more but desperately strove to curb his excitement, his need. Chris took her hand, showed her how and where to rub him, first outside his trousers, and then inside. Saw how her eyes widened with shock at the size of his erection.
This was the first time Amy had seen a man in the flesh and she was truly startled. ‘Heaven help me, how will it fit?’
He was filled suddenly with shame, believing he’d gone too far and alarmed her. It was as if he had no right to be doing these things to her, since they weren’t even married, and certainly not here, out in the open in a damp wood. This wasn’t proper respectful behaviour, no way at all to treat the girl he loved. Abruptly, he let her go, jumped to his feet and walked away. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Amy sat up, shivering in the soft June air, cold now in her nakedness, and called after him in a tiny, heartrending voice. ‘Chris?’
By the time he returned she was dressed, huddled in her thin sweater and weeping silently, feeling unloved and rejected.
He came and put his arms about her, held her tight as he kissed the top of her head. ‘I love you more than you can possibly imagine, more than life itself. But I want you to be my wife first, before I make you mine. I want us both to be free to enjoy our love making properly, not as a hole in the corner affair. I don’t want you to feel I’m taking advantage of these peculiar circumstances, or to be afraid of any possible consequences. It has to be special between us, Amy, because our love is special.’
He kissed away each tear, warmed her ice cold cheeks with his hands, and filled her heart with fresh wonder and love for him.
‘All will be well once we are married, I swear it.’
They filled the days with talking and planning their future. But even walking hand in hand through the woods became fraught with emotion, the longing to touch, to kiss and to caress almost overwhelming. When the slightest glance could spark a desire to make love, which must at all cost be resisted, they were forced to draw apart a little.
Without love-making to distract her, Amy began to worry about practicalities. ‘What about your job? Will they keep that open for you?’
Chris brushed her fears aside. ‘If I can’t get my old job back, I’ll find another. I don’t mind what I do, so long as we’re together.’
And then the weather changed.
It rained for five solid days by the end of which Amy was sneezing and shivering, showing every signs of starting with ‘flu. Their elopement wasn’t turning out to be half so romantic as she had hoped. Quite the reverse. All Amy’s worst fears were coming true. Water dripped from the trees above their heads, the blankets were soaked, and the ground was damp and cold beneath them. Amy longed for a hot bath, and for a plate of her mother’s steak and kidney pudding and peas.
She was tired of sleeping on the hard ground, of eating stale bread and cheese and having nowhere to wash herself but in a cold running stream.
‘They’ll have a fit if we turn up to get married covered in mud and sneezing our heads off,’ she giggled, trying to see the funny side although not really feeling much like laughter.
‘You’ll get pneumonia if we don’t do something to get you warm soon,’ Chris said, anxiety ripe in his voice. ‘What happened to all that lovely June sunshine? And why the hell did I sell the car?’
‘We had to eat, and we didn’t have any money left for petrol anyway. Don’t worry, Chris, I’ll be fine.’
But she grew worse as the day wore on and despite their funds being limited, Chris decided that a night’s bed and breakfast was essential, for Amy at least.
‘I’m not going on my own. Only if we’re together.’
‘I shall sleep on the floor then.’
‘Or on top of the covers, to start with anyway,’ she teased. Amy was beginning to think that a bit of romance would be no bad thing, and then sneezed loudly and realised she must look an absolute sight. Eyes streaming, nose all red, and hair like a bird’s nest from sleeping rough. Who’d want to make love to such a creature?
They found a tiny, typically Scottish single storey house on the outskirts of the village where a shrewd landlady, experienced in the ways of the heart, recognised them for what they were and took pity on them. She provided them with hot baths, fed them Scotch broth and apple dumpling, then packed Amy off to bed with Aspirin and a hot water bottle.
Although it proved to be even less romantic than their nights in the woods, with Chris stoically sticking by his insistence that he sleep on the floor with only a pillow and blanket for comfort, Amy was asleep in seconds. She woke in the morning feeling much better, almost human and with optimism reborn.
The landlady stoked them up with a double egg fried breakfast, and only then, when they were well fortified with food, warm and rested, did she deliver the
crushing blow.
Chapter Twenty
Patsy set the envelope on her dressing table then climbed on to her bed, wrapped her arms about her knees, and looked at it. Actually bringing herself to slit it open seemed quite beyond her in that moment.
What might the friendly neighbour have discovered? Perhaps that it was all nonsense: that old Mrs Matthews was not her grandmother after all? That Clara Higginson was not, in fact, her long-lost mother? And that, as she had always known, she had no family, belonged to no one and was completely unwanted.
A bleak prospect she didn’t even care to consider.
Patsy stared hard at the envelope, willing her eyes to remain wide open and dry. So what if it did say that? She’d known all of this already, so wouldn’t be any worse off if she saw the facts in print, would she?
In her heart she knew that she would be considerably worse off. All hope would then be dead.
Patsy already understood that she was a burden upon the sisters’ generosity. Hadn’t Annie made their straitened circumstances only too clear today in her decision to sack her? They couldn’t afford to pay her wages any longer, maybe didn’t even want her in the house, and why should they? She was nothing to them but a petty thief they’d taken pity on. Not their responsibility.
Perhaps, Patsy thought, if she proved that she was Clara’s daughter, they would decide to keep her after all, and she could stay here, on Champion Street Market, for always and always. That they might actually come to love her. But maybe that was all a foolish dream. Another fantasy. And did she really want to stay? Did she want to spend her life with two drab spinsters?
What of working alongside Marc Bertalone, who might liven things up considerably if she could bring herself to agree to go out with him? But that would mean letting down her defences, and Patsy wasn’t sure she was ready for that either. Didn’t quite know what she wanted.
Fools Fall in Love Page 16
