by Annie Groves
‘Me mum’s waving at me. Before I came out this evening she said to ask you in when you brought me home.’
‘Yeah?’ Chris stretched his neck to squint at the sight of Shirley’s head bobbing behind the curtain. ‘What’s she want with me?’
‘To know if you’re likely to stay the course, I expect,’ Grace muttered sourly, while scowling in her mother’s direction. She was aware that secretly her mother hoped he would scarper. Shirley had been dropping hints she thought all Matilda’s kith and kin beneath them.
‘Thinks I’m a no-good cad, likely to get you in trouble then leave you in the lurch, does she?’ Chris suggested with a dry chuckle.
Grace swerved a doe-eyed look at him and Chris realised his teasing had hit a raw nerve.
They hadn’t had a serious talk about their respective past affairs. Given that they were in their twenties, they’d both assumed the other had previously been romantically involved, perhaps seriously. Christopher hadn’t pried, although he was curious, as any man would be, about a girl he was falling in love with. He knew his Jack the Lad past wouldn’t stand up to a lot of scrutiny, and he didn’t want to be a liar or a hypocrite about it, so he’d decided to keep quiet and explain himself when he had to. But, a moment ago, a few bitter words from Grace had piqued him into forgetting his strategy.
‘You had a bad experience with someone?’ He caught her wrist lightly as she slid towards the door.
‘Most of them,’ she returned lightly, attempting to shrug off his hold. When she couldn’t she turned back to challenge him. ‘How about you? How many girls have you regretted going out with?’
‘Can’t think of any … not that I’ve gone out with many in the way you mean; just knocked about with most of them,’ he answered flatly. ‘So there’s bound to be a few who wished they’d never clapped eyes on me.’
‘Why?’
He shrugged, giving her an impenitent look. ‘I’ve been called a selfish bastard, and a few other names, in my time.’
‘Why?’
‘Why do you think?’ He choked a laugh. ‘I’m no different to the next bloke when it comes to pushing his luck on a Saturday night … or I was …’
Their eyes locked and Grace nibbled at her lower lip.
‘You’re different,’ he said quietly. It was the first time he’d seen her look vulnerable, as though the lustre in her eyes might be caused by tears. ‘I was gonna tell you I think you’re special earlier but you stopped me.’ He took out his cigarettes but she took the pack from him and closed the lid.
‘Your aunt’s right, you do smoke too much.’ She blinked and sniffed.
‘Who was he?’
Grace studied her hands, clasped in her lap. ‘I’ll tell you another time.’
‘You’ll tell me now.’
She twisted towards him, head cocked defiantly to one side, but he didn’t flinch from her combatant stare.
‘Tell me?’ he requested softly.
She’d met Hugh at a local dance in Guildford when she was nineteen and they were engaged six months later, shortly before her dad died. Although Shirley was receiving a small widow’s pension by the time they were planning the wedding, and had had a part-time job in a drapery, Grace had realised it wouldn’t be fair to expect her mum to contribute much. She’d accepted that paying for her wedding would be, on the whole, her responsibility, and had been glad she’d heeded her parents’ advice to save a little bit of her wages each week for her future. She’d done so from the moment she started work in a dress shop in Guildford after leaving school at the age of sixteen.
Her lovely nan had offered to give her some money towards the cake and the flowers, and had put down deposits as soon as the date was set. When it was called off, Grace had insisted her nan be repaid and had returned the deposits out of her own pocket. She couldn’t bear the thought of her grandmother, existing on a meagre pension, having to suffer for her generosity because of a rat like Hugh Wilkins.
‘Are you going to answer me, Grace?’ Chris’s quiet question broke into Grace’s thoughts. ‘When I was nineteen and still in Surrey, I got engaged,’ she blurted. ‘He was a … selfish bastard.’ She gave an acid smile on using his term, but kept her eyes lowered. ‘He was about your age and worked as a shipping clerk, close to my office in the City. After his boss died – or perhaps it was before, I’m not sure – he started comforting the man’s widow. A few months later, just as we were due to get the banns read, he moved in with her and her two kids and told me it was over.’ Grace glanced at him before resuming. ‘Didn’t seem to matter to him that she was only a year younger than my mum. I suppose the money left to her by her late husband might have been more attractive than she was … or I was, come to that.’ She proudly tilted up her chin. ‘I think they got married last year. Sound bitchy and bitter over it, don’t I?’
‘Reckon most people would feel the same if it happened to them,’ Chris said quietly. ‘What a prat he was,’ he drawled in a way that was a greater compliment to her than any praise.
Grace rewarded him with a shadow of a smile.
‘You over him now?’
She nodded and turned fully towards him. ‘Yeah, I’m definitely over him.’
‘Good … that’s all I need to know.’
‘Might not be all I need to know,’ she returned waspishly. ‘How many girls have you … knocked about with?’
He smiled at the Weights in his fist. ‘Not that many …’
‘You might as well tell me, Chris, ’cos eventually your mates’ll drop you right in it.’
He started to laugh. ‘Oh, yeah, gits’ll do that all right. Especially Vic.’ He glanced up with boyish diffidence. ‘Leave it for another time, shall we?’
‘You’re lucky me mum’s on the prowl, and it’s getting late, or I’d pin you down over it right now.’
‘Yeah?’ He slid predatorily closer. ‘Sounds good …’
She whacked at his arm in mock disgust. ‘You’d better come round and let me out.’ She tugged at the stiff handle. ‘If I try opening the door I know I’ll risk losing me fingers in it.’
‘That’s all I need, another dash up the Casualty Department.’ He got out and came round to help her from the van. He didn’t move aside but kept her trapped close to him, his body shielding her from Shirley Coleman’s spying.
‘Don’t matter about none of what’s past, Grace,’ Chris whispered gently. ‘None of ’em matter.’ He tilted up her chin. ‘It’s just us now.’ He slid his lips against her cheek. ‘And tell your mum I’m a decent chap and she needn’t worry I’ll chase her round the kitchen. I’ve never had a thing for mature women …’
Grace burst out laughing so spontaneously that her petite figure bumped suggestively against him. ‘She might like you chasing her round the kitchen,’ she gasped out. ‘She’s always hinting she’s not too old for a boyfriend.’ A moment later her humour had passed and she was gazing up at him with a serious expression. ‘I’ll come with you, you know. When you go looking for your mum, I’ll come too, if you want, and give you all the support you need, promise.’ Having gone onto tiptoe she kissed his dusty cheek then extricated herself from his embrace. ‘Give your dad my best wishes for a speedy recovery, won’t you?’
‘Yeah … thanks.’ He watched her go in and close the door, filled with a sense of elation, before giving Shirley a cheeky wave.
It was only as he crashed the van into gear that he realised it would be the first time, since the war, he could recall going home to Crouch End to spend the night alone. His father had always been there.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘How’s Stevie this morning?’
Christopher had barely got a foot over the threshold of Rob’s office before his uncle fired that urgent question at him. He accepted the mug of tea Rob had just poured out and perched on the edge of a chair.
‘He seemed a lot better. But he’s not going to be out for a while yet, so the sister said.’
A smile of sheer relief animated Ro
bert’s face on hearing the good news.
‘He’s all bandaged up and got bruises coming up on one side of his face and on his arms.’ Chris described a large circle on one of his own cheeks with a finger. ‘Couldn’t see his legs but I reckon they’re black and blue as well. Matron said he’s been sick a lot but apparently that happens with bangs on the head. He’s not sitting up yet, but he had his eyes open and we had a bit of a chat.’
Christopher had called in at the hospital to see his father before eight o’clock and the staff sister – who looked like a forbidding battleaxe but in fact had been kind – had muttered about breaking the rules but had allowed him to see Stephen for a short while. Their chat had skirted around anything controversial and, thinking about it now, Chris realised he’d spent almost the whole ten minutes satisfying his father’s curiosity about the weather.
‘Be alright, d’you reckon, if I go up during visiting this afternoon?’ Rob asked.
‘Don’t see why not. I’m gonna pop in this evening.’
‘So what’s been happening with this Irish crew, and how come nobody thought to tell me about it?’ Now he’d satisfied himself his brother was on the mend, Rob immediately got down to business with his nephew.
‘They turned up not long after we started there. Dad was keen to find out how they got a foot in the door, but Declan O’Connor don’t give nuthin’ away. He’s a right sly bastard. We come to the conclusion a palm must be getting greased up the Council Office.’ Chris had expected a cross-examination from his uncle and had resigned himself to telling Rob everything about the pikeys, and the accident, whether his father approved of it or not. In Chris’s opinion it was time the navvies got paid back for what they’d done. If the new ladder hadn’t been nicked, his father wouldn’t be lying in hospital.
‘Declan O’Connor never does much donkeywork himself; he just turns up to pay his men and gee them up. Can tell from the way he tries to wind us up, calling out stuff about us falling behind, and not knowing our business, that he’d like to see us off. He’s after having all the work in the street.’ Christopher paused, and took a swig of tea. ‘Have to say though, he looked shocked when he saw what had happened to me dad.’ He glanced up at Rob. ‘I went for him over thieving the ladder and causing the accident and they all backed off. Hope it stays that way, ’cos I can do without any more trouble while dad’s so poorly.’ He sighed. ‘On me mind all the time, he is.’
‘Sounds like I need to have a little chat with somebody,’ Rob said, looking thoughtful. ‘Why’s Stevie been keeping this to himself?’
Christopher shrugged, feeling a bit uneasy. He decided to give his honest opinion. ‘You know what me dad’s like … I’m guessing he felt bad about new stuff going walkies. Like I said yesterday, he was intending to replace it out of his own pocket.’ Then he added, ‘I don’t reckon he wants you to think he’s incapable of sorting stuff out himself, and that’s why he decided to try and handle O’Connor on his own.’
A faint grimace of surprise flickered over Rob’s features. He hadn’t been expecting his nephew to be quite so perceptive, or truthful, about Stevie’s insecurities. But Rob knew Chris’s loyalty to his father was rock solid.
‘You alright overseeing the Whadcoat Street job on your own now?’
‘’Course I am.’
‘Right …’ cos when your dad gets out of hospital he’s gonna need a good rest, and then I’m gonna have a word with him about things. Perhaps it’s time he eased up working on the tools and came and did a bit in the office instead. It’d relieve the pressure on me too. Your aunt Faye is always telling me to slow down and take a few days off. Perhaps she’s right about that.’
Chris took a gulp from his mug. He wasn’t sure how his dad would take to sitting behind a desk, but there was time enough to argue the toss about that another day. He knew he ought to get off to work to make sure the lads weren’t taking liberties while they were unsupervised.
‘Is it right that you and your dad have been arguing a lot lately?’
Chris put down his tea and frowned at his shoes. Rob was his uncle, and his guvnor, but he felt like telling him to mind his own business on this one.
‘Anything I should know about?’ Rob prompted.
Chris shook his head. ‘Nah … personal stuff …’
‘Right,’ Rob said. In fact he knew very well what the problem was between his brother and his nephew. When he’d given Matilda a lift home from the hospital the previous evening his aunt, in her agitated state, had blurted out that Stevie probably hadn’t been concentrating at work because he’d been in high dudgeon ever since Chris had mentioned finding his mum. She’d realised at once she’d spoken out of turn, and had threatened Rob with dire consequences if he repeated it to anyone else.
‘Who told you we’d been arguing?’ Chris demanded.
Rob pulled open a filing cabinet drawer. ‘You know how it is with the lads … word gets round.’
‘You know what it’s about, don’t you?’ Chris wasn’t fooled for a moment. None of the lads knew anything except that he and Stevie had been avoiding one another as best they could.
‘Heard rumours that you want to find your mum.’
‘And?’
‘And … I’m not sure you should rock the boat on this one, Chris.’ Rob tossed some papers that he’d pulled from the cabinet onto the desk. ‘It’s been a long time settled, why stir it up?’
‘Because I’m a Plummer as well as a Wild, and there’s things I want to know.’
Rob had detected the raw emotion in his nephew’s voice and he put up his hands, gesturing for a truce. ‘Just telling you what I think, mate. But it’s not my opinion that counts, it’s yours.’
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Chris said coolly. ‘Better be off and get to work.’
‘Come back later before you knock off. I’ll write out a docket and you can take it to the merchants to get any stuff you need.’
Chris nodded.
‘Make sure you buy a couple of bleedin’ strong ladders, won’t you?’ Rob called dryly as Chris closed the door.
He was just getting into his van when a smart saloon car pulled up by the office and a woman got out from behind the wheel. Chris liked his aunt Faye so he strolled over to speak to her.
‘Heard about your dad, Chris,’ Faye said immediately, her features crumpling in sympathy. ‘So sorry … how is he this morning?’
‘Better,’ Chris nodded and smiled, emphasising the good news.
A sigh of sheer relief was Faye’s response. ‘And how are you bearing up? And how’s that lovely new girlfriend of yours?’
‘Yeah, I’m alright, but can’t keep any secrets, I see,’ Chris muttered, but with a twitch of the lips.
‘In this family?’ Faye’s tone had risen in feigned amazement. ‘Matilda told me about Grace.’ She tapped his arm. ‘And when Matilda’s impressed with somebody you know they’re alright.’
‘Yeah, Grace is alright,’ Chris endorsed softly, proudly.
‘You going to bring her with you when you come for dinner? I don’t know if your dad will be out of hospital by then and able to make it, but we’re going ahead with a little do for Daisy’s birthday.’
Chris had forgotten all about his aunt’s invitation to his cousin Daisy’s birthday lunch.
‘I’ve invited Pearl and I hope she’ll come. It’ll take her mind off things if she comes over for the day.’
‘I’ll ask Grace, I’m sure she’d like to come,’ Chris said as he pulled open the van door. ‘And it’d be nice to introduce her to some of the family.’
‘You don’t know that family like I do! If you did, you might be having second thoughts about going steady with Christopher Wild, or meeting more of his lot.’
Grace shot her mother an exasperated look. Moments ago she’d got home from the office and, before she’d even shrugged off her coat, Shirley had resumed nagging. The same conversation had been echoing in her head at breakfast that morning and Grace had gladly escaped t
o go to work.
It had all started when she’d told her mother that she’d been invited to Sunday dinner in a few weeks’ time with some of Chris’s extended family.
‘So what if the man I’m going out with isn’t a middle-class clerk who goes to work in a suit! Thank God for that! I had one of those before, didn’t I, Mum, and look where that got me.’
‘I know Hugh Wilkins was no good.’ Shirley gestured disdain at the memory of her daughter’s ex-fiancé. ‘I’m the first to admit there’s good and bad in all walks of life, so I’m not tarring all working-class people with the same brush …’
‘Well that’s a bleeding relief!’ Grace shouted with intentional coarseness. ‘’Cos we’re working class!’ She spun away from her mother in disgust. ‘My dad, your husband, worked in a factory all his life, in case you’ve forgotten.’
‘See!’ Shirley wagged a finger. ‘Before you started knocking about with one of the Wilds you wouldn’t have talked to me like that. Your language, miss!’
‘Oh, for Heaven’s sake,’ Grace muttered. A moment later she’d swung back to her mother, unable to contain her annoyance. ‘You’re a snob and a hypocrite, d’you know that? Nice as pie to Matilda to her face, weren’t you, then behind her back tearing her family to shreds. When we went to see her, why didn’t you tell her straight out that she lives in a dump, instead of sitting drinking tea with her then running her down afterwards behind her back?’ Grace paused for breath. ‘And why didn’t you tell her straight out you’d sooner sit in listening to the wireless than go to Islington and join in her street party on Coronation Day?’
‘You can’t tell me Whadcoat Street isn’t a dump, and who in their right mind would want to socialise with people like that?’
‘I would!’ Grace shouted. ‘And I’m going to.’
‘Well, you lower yourself if you want to. I only went to see her and have a cup of tea with her to be polite. Didn’t really fancy a cup, I can tell you.’ Shirley’s face was a study of distaste. ‘And I’m only thinking of you and your future, miss, when I say stay away from them. I don’t want to see you making more mistakes.’ Shirley adopted a pious look. ‘You know I’ve always been pleasant to Christopher. First time he came here I invited him in for a cup of tea to thank him for bringing us home. I know my manners.’
