It Had To Be You

by June Francis

  ‘Your uncle was here,’ she croaked, hanging on to Jared’s arm. ‘He must have followed you.’

  Jared swore and looked about him, but the pavements were thronged with people and there was no one who looked remotely like his uncle. ‘What did he say to you?’ he asked.

  ‘He knew who I was,’ she gasped. ‘I didn’t like the look of him at all.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ said Jared, furious that this should happen to Emma after her being so upset by his news about Betty.

  ‘He warned me to watch where I was going,’ said Emma. ‘Then he grabbed my arm. I dragged myself free and turned to go back in the café; h-he pushed me so hard that I crashed into the door.’

  ‘Come on, let’s go back inside. With a bit of luck that waitress might have left our tea on the table,’ said Jared.

  She had left the tea but there was no sign of Emma’s overnight bag. ‘You pour and I’ll go and check if the waitress has put your bag behind the counter,’ said Jared.

  The woman had done so and Jared took it back over to the table. Placing it on the floor, he sat down at the table and gazed at Emma with concern. ‘So what do you want to do next? How are you feeling? Did you hurt anything when you banged into the door?’

  ‘It knocked the stuffing out of me, that’s all,’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘I want to go home.’

  ‘Home! You mean right now?’ he said, taken aback.

  ‘Aye.’ Emma’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I know what you’re thinking. But I can’t stay. What am I going to say to Betty when I see her? I can’t tell her what you’ve just told me. She’s convinced that she gets her artistic talent from my father and is determined to follow in his footsteps. I need time to come to terms with what you’ve just told me. Don’t you understand?’

  ‘Of course I do!’ He ran a hand through his dark hair, raising it up in a crest. ‘If you want to go home, then I’ll come with you.’

  She lowered her gaze. ‘I need to be alone. I have to think, and your being there will be a distraction.’

  He flinched, and she felt as if a hand squeezed her heart as she watched him struggle to regain his composure.

  ‘What about my Uncle Teddy? What if he’s still hanging around somewhere and follows you?’ said Jared.

  ‘Why should he follow me?’ she asked.

  ‘If he has read, or someone has read to him, the papers that were in Ma’s box, then he’ll know you’re in her will and he’s completely out of it. He’ll also know the truth about Betty. If he’s been watching the house, then he might have seen us together. He’ll have put two and two together and worked out that I care about you. He’ll know the way to hurt me is through you.’

  Emma thought about that and said, ‘If he follows me home, then he’d stand out like a sore thumb in the village because he’s a stranger. I’ll speak to our local bobby and have him keep an eye open for him.’ She placed her hand on his arm. ‘I know it’s not your fault, but please, let me be alone for a while.’

  Jared said stiffly, ‘If that’s what you want.’

  She hesitated. ‘I tell you what − walk with me to the station and wait until the train leaves, just in case you’re right and he has me in his sights.’

  Jared said, ‘I planned to follow you there, anyway, to make sure he wasn’t doing so.’

  ‘Then let’s go now.’

  He was about to suggest that she drank her tea first, but already Emma had picked up her overnight bag and was on her feet.

  They did not speak as they made their way to the station to find that the Manchester train was due in a quarter of an hour. Jared purchased a platform ticket and kept looking around for any sign of his uncle. Then the train came in and he saw Emma into a carriage.

  ‘I’ll write,’ she said.

  Jared nodded and touched her cheek but made no attempt to kiss her. He remained on the platform, keeping an eye open for anyone that looked even remotely like his uncle, until the train departed.

  He wasted no time catching the bus, wanting to get home as soon as possible. He was expecting to find his mother at home. Hopefully Dorothy would be with her. In the meantime he could only hope that his mother had made sure that both front and back doors were firmly locked.

  Dorothy banged the knocker, hoping that this time someone would come. She heard footsteps and the door opened and Billy McElroy stood there.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said, sounding disappointed.

  He smiled down at her and drawled, ‘We’re going to have to stop meeting like this, Dorothy Gregory. What can I do for you this time?’

  ‘It’s your father I wanted, Mr McElroy,’ she replied, a flush on her cheeks.

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ said Billy. ‘He’s just retired and he’s gone away for a few days’ fishing.’

  She could not conceal her dismay. ‘Have you any idea when he’ll be back?’

  ‘Tuesday.’ He added with a serious note in his voice, ‘Look, if you give me an idea what the problem is, perhaps I can help. Unless you want to go to the police station, so you can talk to someone else.’

  ‘No, I don’t want to go there. I-it’s difficult,’ she said.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I need a policeman, a figure of authority, who can put the wind up someone.’

  Billy’s eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘I can do that. Just tell me who this someone is.’

  ‘This isn’t funny, you know,’ said Dorothy indignantly. ‘It’s a very serious matter.’

  ‘I didn’t say it was funny,’ said Billy, his smile fading. ‘Look, why don’t you come in and explain what your problem is?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘I won’t bite.’

  ‘I didn’t say you would, but I need to get home and see if Mum’s OK,’ said Dorothy, turning away.

  She was at the foot of the step when he said, ‘This wouldn’t be to do with your uncle, would it?’

  She whirled round. ‘What d’you know? Have you been eavesdropping on the girls again?’

  ‘They have such piercing voices,’ drawled Billy. ‘Come in and have a cup of tea and I’ll tell you what I know.’

  Dorothy hesitated. ‘I’ve a better idea. Why don’t you walk me home? Mum could be there all alone and worrying about me.’

  ‘I’ll just get my jacket,’ he said.

  Elsie put the key in the lock and pushed the door open and went inside, shutting it firmly behind her. ‘Anyone home?’ she called.

  There was no answer and she stood a moment, listening to the silence. Then she went into all the downstairs rooms and checked there was no one there, before dumping the shopping on the kitchen table and putting the kettle on. She went upstairs to check out the bedrooms and change her shoes. She noticed that the rectangular packages that Jared had brought down from the loft were still leaning against the wall of the upstairs landing. She carried one into her bedroom, took a pair of scissors out of a drawer and snipped the string. Then she removed the newspaper wrapping to reveal a portrait of her sister cradling a baby, surely Betty. Tears filled her eyes and she covered it up again before opening the other one that was of a similar size. It was of a curly-haired toddler with a toothy grin and smiling eyes. Emma! Elsie thought it was natural for Lizzie to have put that one away, but why the one of herself and Betty? It seemed a strange thing to do, but then there had often been times in the past when she hadn’t understood her sister at all.

  Suddenly she smelt burning and hurried downstairs. Without thinking she picked up the kettle, only to drop it with a scream. She switched off the gas, unlocked the back door and flung it open to let out the smoke. Then she turned on the cold tap and thrust her hand beneath it. She swore beneath her breath, telling herself that she was stupid. Butter, she needed butter to put on the burn.

  She went into the larder and brought out the butter dish; she removed the lid, ran a finger through the surface of the butter and spread it on her blistering fingers. Her heart was thudding in her chest and she k
new that she had to sit down. It really hurt! She pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. It was then she realised that the kettle was still on the floor, where she had dropped it. Most likely it would have cooled down by now. She got up and bent down to pick it up. As she did so she heard a slight sound. The next moment she was sent sprawling on the floor. She groaned and attempted to push herself up, only to feel something slam into her back and crush her to the floor.

  ‘How does it feel, Elsie, to be down and unable to get up again?’ said her husband.

  Her heart banged against her ribs. ‘Is that you, Teddy?’ she gasped.

  ‘Who the hell, d’you think it is? You’re going to rewrite that will, Elsie, or you’ll regret it, girl.’

  She could not believe this was happening. He must have been spying on them to have been able to get in just at that moment. Well, she was not going to do what he told her. ‘Go to hell!’ she wheezed.

  ‘That money is mine. Your Lizzie should have married me. I asked her often enough, but she was forever throwing my words back in my face.’

  ‘I didn’t know that!’

  ‘No? Well, she got her comeuppance. I lost my rag one day and went for her. She hit me in the face and then ran out of the house. Bloody fool! I would have made her a good husband. I really wanted her, but instead she ran straight in front of a car.’

  ‘You were responsible for our Lizzie’s death?’ gasped Elsie.

  ‘I didn’t mean for her to die, but that’s life, isn’t it? We both grieved for her. Betty was so like her mother. Bloody hell, did she put up a struggle on New Year’s Eve, but I enjoyed that. She was a fighter, just like Lizzie.’

  Elsie felt such a rage building up inside her. She placed her hands flat on the floor and tried to push herself up in an attempt to throw him off and get her hands on him. But it was too much for her and she collapsed onto the floor.

  The back door slammed against the wall, causing Teddy’s head to swivel round. In the doorway stood Maggie. ‘What d’you think you’re doing, you pig? Get the hell off Mum!’ she said, charging towards him.

  He scrambled to his feet and gazed at his niece and the youth who had limped in after her, leaning on a stick. ‘Not you two again,’ he muttered. ‘Get out of my way, both of you. Elsie’s blacked out and she needs a doctor.’

  Maggie glanced at Pete.

  ‘You go for the doctor and I’ll stay here and watch him.’ Pete slid his hand further down the stick and grasped it midway, his face hardened as he stared at Teddy.

  Maggie backed away from her uncle and turned and left the kitchen. Then she ran. As she reached the front gate, she saw her sister and Billy McElroy coming towards her. ‘Thank God,’ she said, running straight for her sister and falling against her. ‘Uncle Teddy’s in the kitchen. Pete’s watching him. He was on top of Mum and she’s blacked out. I’m going for the doctor.’

  ‘Well go then!’ cried Dorothy, pushing her sister in the direction of the main road before running towards the house.

  ‘Get out of me bloody way,’ snarled Teddy. ‘Or I’ll knock you down, lad, and you’ll never get up again.’

  ‘Try it,’ said Pete, gripping his walking stick with both hands. ‘I hate your bloody sort, picking on women and girls.’

  Teddy went for him. Pete swept his feet from beneath him. As the man went down his head hit the floor, but he managed to grab one of the youth’s legs. Pete toppled backwards against the wall. Teddy groaned and staggered to his feet and stumbled out of the kitchen, only to find Dorothy blocking his escape.

  ‘G-get out m-me way,’ he stuttered.

  ‘What have you done to Mum, you swine?’ she asked, pushing him hard in the chest.

  ‘Sh-she’s my wife an-and sh-she had it coming.’ Teddy blinked at her. ‘Sh-she’s dead. Now out of my way!’

  Dorothy’s face went blank with shock. ‘I don’t believe it!’ She barged past him in a hurry.

  Teddy staggered forward, only to find his way barred now by Billy. ‘Come on, little man,’ he said, beckoning him with a crooked finger.

  Jared was coming down the road and had just reached the gate, so he saw what happened next, but at the inquest he was unable to tell the coroner exactly what it was that caused his uncle’s knees to buckle and for him to collapse onto the ground. He swore that Billy did not touch him. One thing was for certain, Uncle Teddy never got up again.

  Sadly, neither did his mother.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  13th February 1954

  Emma was only half-listening to one of her favourite radio programmes, Journey into Space, because she was unable to take her eyes from the envelope propped up against the clock on the mantelpiece, beneath the painting her father had done of her as a child. The envelope had come that morning, and as it had SWALK where it had been sealed, she had decided to leave opening it until tomorrow.

  She had known it was from Jared as soon as she picked it up from the coconut mat. It wasn’t the first time he had written to her since they had parted in Lime Street station. His first letter had arrived on Christmas Eve, along with the parcel containing her father’s painting of her. The letter had informed her that he was putting his house up for sale. By then she knew of the deaths of his mother and Uncle Teddy, because Betty had arrived on her doorstep within days of that eventful Saturday. Emma had been at a low ebb, feeling that she should not have run away but remained with Jared and faced his mother.

  But it had been too late for that, and she had sat listening to Betty, who was full of the news. She had talked incessantly, until Emma’s head had ached even more than it did already. It was obvious to her that neither Jared nor Dorothy had told Betty that William Booth wasn’t her father. At least Emma could be glad of that, and also that none of them had to worry about the uncle any longer. Yet knowing Betty was no sister to her had still felt like a bereavement. Despite being extremely fond of her, Emma could not help but feel differently about her. She hoped in time that she would get over it, but for the moment she had to consciously pretend that nothing had changed between them.

  Emma’s feelings towards Jared, however, had not gone away. If anything, she missed him more than she had done when she had been ignorant of the fact that his aunt and mother had used money that rightfully belonged to her. Despite still loving him, she had felt the need to keep a distance between them: that meant he stayed in Liverpool and she in her village, although she had written to him several times, thrilled that he should have sent her the portrait of herself.

  It had seemed like a long winter and it was not over yet, but the snowdrops were flowering in her garden and the days were lengthening out. Now here, on the mantelpiece, was what she felt certain was a card, not a letter. She longed to open it and read what he had written but had decided to wait until St Valentine’s Day. The radio programme came to an end and, switching it off, her patience suddenly snapped. She was unable to bear the suspense any longer. She reached for the card and slit it open.

  A red satin heart bordered by flowers was on the front, as well as the words To my Valentine with love. She opened it and did not bother with the printed words, her eyes going immediately to those in Jared’s handwriting. She laughed because the two lines of verse were so corny, but her face was soft with tenderness as she read them: Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you. Can we meet?

  She had wanted to send him a Valentine card but the difficulty was that he had sold his house despite her having told him that she did not wish to deprive him, Dorothy and Maggie of their home. She had received a letter in January saying that it was too late for that and he already had a buyer.

  Emma turned the card over to see if there was a new address on the back; suddenly she was disturbed by a rat-tat-tat on the back door. Swiftly she shoved the Valentine card behind the cushion and got up. At the back of her mind was the hope that it might be Jared, but on opening the door, it was Lila who stood there.

  ‘Why didn’t you come?’ asked Lila, lookin
g upset.

  She had obviously been rushing because her cheeks were flushed and her hair was in a tangle. ‘Come in! You’re getting my house cold,’ urged Emma, dragging her inside. ‘What did I forget?’

  ‘You’re hopeless,’ said Lila, shaking her head as she shrugged off her coat and hung it up. ‘Your bridesmaid’s dress! You were supposed to be coming for a final fitting.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Emma guiltily. Perhaps she had forgotten because what she wanted was to be a bride, not a bridesmaid. ‘Anyway, the dress fits me perfectly. I’m not on a diet like you.’

  Lila rolled her eyes. ‘The excuses you give for not doing things. You know you’ve lost weight, without even trying. It’s time you made up with Jared.’

  ‘But I haven’t fallen out with him,’ protested Emma, putting the kettle on. ‘Cup of cocoa?’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Lila, plonking herself down in a chair and closing her eyes. ‘I never thought that getting married and moving house would be so exhausting. Only a month to go.’

  ‘If I was getting married, I’d want to be a June bride,’ murmured Emma.

  Lila opened one eye. ‘But you’d lose tax perks if you did that.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ said Emma, smiling.

  ‘That’s because you’re coming into money. I am glad for you, although I am the teeniest bit envious, as well,’ said Lila wryly.

  ‘Well, you’re going to have a husband with a good steady job and a nice police house and I will buy you a smashing present,’ responded Emma, spooning cocoa into cups.

  Lila smiled. ‘Thanks. I will miss you. Will you miss me?’

  Emma stared at her. ‘Of course I’ll miss you − and your dad – although I don’t know how long I’ll be here myself.’

  Lila sat up straight. ‘You mean you’re going to sell up and get a bigger place with your inheritance?’

  ‘It depends how things work out. If they don’t, then I’ll get a damp course put in and an extension built on the back here,’ said Emma, gazing out the window. ‘But before I do any of that, I’ll need to write a letter to Betty.’