He didn’t seem very worried, but then if he hadn’t even noticed there was no point in getting worked up about it now, Evie thought. Frederick was like that about so many things: he had great confidence in everything working out to suit him with the minimum amount of fuss and effort.
The next time she saw the car it was all smooth and smart again, so the man in Kingsford was obviously very good at his job.
Evie observed Jeanie carefully when she went to visit, looking to see how her mother was taking her father’s death. Jeanie had wept a bit at the funeral, but had been very dignified, and, Evie thought, quite a lot less upset than she’d been about Robert. Sometimes now Evie caught Jeanie with a faraway look on her face, and maybe she didn’t laugh quite so readily, but she certainly wasn’t heartbroken. No, Jeanie had moved on in her life and Michael had been part of the past she’d left behind. What she hadn’t left behind, despite Evie’s fears that she was losing all her family, were her surviving children and her mother, with whom she was in touch most days.
What Evie hadn’t expected when she went to tea with George that Sunday, was that he’d ask her to marry him. She could feel her heart beating fast and her stomach was fluttering like a bird. There was no doubt in her mind that George Morris was quite a catch, with his kindness and his generosity, but he wasn’t like Billy.
Where did that thought come from? That was her old life.
George was waiting patiently.
‘I’m very fond of you, George,’ Evie began, and saw his smile slip. ‘You’re the nicest, kindest man I’ve ever met and we always have such fun together …’
‘But …?’
‘I know you’d be a wonderful husband and that you would look after me, as you say, but I’m not sure I’m ready to marry anyone yet. I’m only seventeen and, well, there’s quite a gap between our ages.’
‘But I’m not ancient, Evie. I’m good for many years yet,’ George said.
‘I’m sure you are. That’s not what I meant. What I should have said is that, I’m sorry, I’m not in love with you and so I don’t think it would be right to marry you.’
‘But do you think you could ever fall in love with me, Evie? Can you give me any hope at all?’
He looked so sad that Evie reached out and clasped his hand. Immediately he put his other hand over hers and held it tenderly.
‘It would be wrong to string you along, George, but if we continue to be friends then maybe I will come to love you. I’d really like it if we could still meet up as we do, which are the times I enjoy best of all. I can’t make any promises about love because that wouldn’t be honest, but I can promise that I’ll always be your friend.’
‘And you will tell me if you change your mind – if you find that, after all, you do love me, won’t you, Evie?’
‘Oh, George, of course I will. If I fall in love with you, you will be the very first person to know.’
That night, when Evie got into bed, thoughts about George’s marriage proposal ran endlessly through her head. Had she said the right thing? She thought of the neat flat above the draper’s shop, which was big enough to accommodate Sue if she wanted to live there, too. Then she thought of the shop with the finest selection of materials and trimmings she’d ever seen, its polished mahogany cabinets and counters, its smell of pristine new fabric. Finally she thought of George, widowed for several years now, probably a bit lonely, always kind, sober, fun and thoughtful. What did it matter that he was ten years older than her own mother, if they loved each other? Tears sprang to her eyes as she remembered the flowers George had sent when Michael died and how he’d telephoned to see if she was all right while she’d been lying miserable and selfish in her bed, leaving all the work to Sue.
If only I could love him, George would be quite perfect.
He’d said he’d give her time, but how long would that be? Typically, he hadn’t asked her for a deadline. He was prepared to wait for as long as she needed to make up her mind.
I want to be in love with him – I do – but I can’t make it happen. I can’t hurry it or direct it, and it would be so wrong to pretend. What if, then, I met someone else and really fell in love, and wouldn’t feel alone any more?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Back in Fawcett Street, since Ada’s death Billy had been miserable. It had been a terrible shock finding her lying in bed like that, especially as she’d been dead for many hours, all alone. And he’d just gone and left her without even looking in. What kind of son did that make him? It was true that Ada had been a bit of one for playing ill and faking to bed, but that was no excuse for not checking whether she was all right.
Billy missed his mother. He missed her gossiping and grumbling, and he missed the sound of the wireless of an evening but hadn’t the heart to put it on for himself. Now the house was silent. He even missed her bad cooking. One of the worst things about his life without Ada was returning home to an empty house and having to get his own lonely tea after work, with no one to sit and eat it with. At first he’d taken to going to the pub, just for the cooked food and a bit of company, but he couldn’t afford to go every evening, and, anyway, he felt he didn’t deserve the company. Not after the way he’d treated his mother. It served him right that he was by himself now. After a week or so he stopped going to the pub.
At first Billy had not told the truth of that awful day to his friends. He was so ashamed of the way he had treated his mother, he’d never forgive himself. They had rallied round to try to cheer him up, but he couldn’t set aside the feeling that he had let Ada down in her final hours, that the last thing he’d ever said to her had been in anger. Now he was being punished for it and he felt he shouldn’t be looking for a good time with his friends. After several failed attempts to raise Billy’s spirits, Colin from the postal depot, Geraldine and her older brothers gave up and left him to stew in his own misery.
One day on his delivery round, Billy saw a poster up outside Mr Amsell’s shop, advertising an evening of music at a church hall in Manchester the Saturday before Christmas. He thought nothing of it, but then the fellas in the depot had organised a few festive events he’d turned down and he got to thinking he’d rather go somewhere where no one knew who he was – where no one knew what an awful son he’d been, letting down his mother in her last hours. At least he wouldn’t have to speak to anyone in Manchester, as there was no one there he knew. And it had to be better than sitting alone at home, where he spent so much time he felt he was in danger of becoming downright peculiar.
The day of the concert, Billy took an early train and had a look around the city. There were rows of metal and canvas chairs and the place smelled dusty and looked a bit shabby with use. He took a seat not too near the front.
‘And now for a song that may be new to Manchester,’ said the girl singer, who had a very assured manner, ‘but we think it will soon be sung wherever marrows are grown. It was written by Peter Carter here, on guitar, and it’s called “The Marrow Song”.’
As the musicians burst into a lively tune Billy stretched his neck to see the composer, his attention caught by the familiar name.
Good grief, I don’t believe it. It can’t be … Yes, it’s Peter Carter from Shenty Street. Evie’s little brother!
Peter was older, of course, much taller and halfway to being a man, but there was no doubt it was the same person. Billy hardly listened to the song as he tried to think what on earth he would do now. He couldn’t go back home as if he hadn’t seen Peter. Even if Billy had never been in love with Evie, Peter was a good lad and, although he wouldn’t know, it would be ridiculous not to try to say hello, at least. And maybe there’d be some news of Evie. Despite the fact she was now married to that dashing fella, Billy would like to know how she was.
The song ended and the applause was enthusiastic. He filed out of the row of seats and headed for the front of the room. The band would be somewhere behind the stage, he reckoned. Everyone was moving that way and he heard talk of refreshments. Good, that w
ould make it easier.
Straight away he saw Peter, talking and laughing with the twins who played violins.
‘Peter! Peter Carter!’
Peter looked round, surprised. Then his face brightened. ‘Billy! What a surprise. I never expected to see anyone from Bolton here.’
‘It’s good to see you,’ said Billy, shaking his hand and slapping Peter on the back. ‘I’ve enjoyed the concert so far. Will you be playing again?’
‘We will. We’re appearing last. I hope you’ll stay for that. Let me introduce you to the band …’
Billy met each of them and shook their hands, impatient to ask Peter about Evie.
‘… and our leader, Letitia Mortimer,’ Peter finished. ‘Letty, this is Billy Taylor.’
‘Letty Mortimer?’ asked Billy, seeing an opening. ‘I know your name. You’re a friend of Evie’s.’
‘Evie’s very best friend,’ smiled the young woman. ‘And I think I’ve heard your name, too.’ She looked more serious. ‘Are you the Billy Taylor with whom Evie had a falling-out at someone’s birthday party last year?’
Billy didn’t like the way the conversation was going now. ‘That’s true, I’m afraid, though I tried to make it up to her by coming down to see her.’
Letty drew Billy to one side and Peter joined them in a private huddle.
‘All we know is that you didn’t reply to her letters, even when she told you Bob was dead, and she never heard from you again,’ said Peter, but patiently. He evidently suspected there was far more to this than a silence on Billy’s part. After all, Billy would hardly be being so friendly now if he’d never forgiven Evie for her side of the quarrel.
‘Oh, Peter, I did get two letters from Evie, but my mother … she put them aside and they got overlooked somehow …’ Billy still could not bring himself to blame his mother in front of these people.
‘So what happened?’ asked Letty. ‘When you eventually found the letters, I mean.’
‘It was months after Evie wrote them. I went down to see her, to tell her to her face that I was sorry about the quarrel as I know from the letters that she was sorry, too.’
‘I didn’t know you’d been down,’ said Peter.
‘Evie didn’t tell me that,’ said Letty.
‘She didn’t know. I never got to speak to her.’
‘So what happened?’ asked Letty, taking a cup of tea off a passing trolley and putting it into Billy’s hands.
‘I stopped in Redmond to catch a bus to Church Sandleton and I happened to see her in the street there. She looked lovely – right got up – and I hardly believed it was her at first. She was coming out of a bank with an older man and they looked very close.’
‘George Morris, I should think?’ Letty asked Peter. ‘He’s a draper. He owns a shop where Evie goes to buy fabrics for the business,’ said Letty. ‘He’s been a good friend to her, especially since her father was killed.’
‘Michael, dead?’ Billy’s mouth was agape. ‘Oh … oh, Peter, I’m sorry.’
Peter looked away for a moment. Then he said, ‘Evie took it badly, but Grandma’s got her working hard, everyone’s been kind to Evie and Grandma Sue, haven’t they, Letty?’
‘They’re very popular in the village and people always rally round their friends.’ Letty said this with slight emphasis and Billy felt that in her opinion he had been found wanting as a friend. Well, that was right enough.
Just then someone rang a handbell to signal the interval was over and the audience began to troop back to their seats while the musicians gathered together and looked out their music for the second half.
‘In the village?’ asked Billy, confused. ‘But doesn’t Evie live in Redmond, in some grand house in a little square?’
‘Come and find us afterwards …’ said Peter as Martin Clackett called him and Letty over to where he and the twins were busy preparing for their turn.
Billy sat impatiently waiting for it to end, although he could tell why The Mortimers, as the band was called, were the main draw and the last to reappear as the highlight of the evening. All he could think about was getting back to Peter and Letty and finding out about Evie – and who this George Morris was to her. It was the first time that he’d felt hope since finding his mother dead in her bed.
When the applause died away and the lights were switched back on, Billy rushed out and back to the room behind the stage.
‘Billy,’ said Peter, who’d been looking out for him.
Billy was bursting with questions. ‘So is Evie married? Where does she live? I saw her going into a right smart-looking house in a little square in Redmond, and a neighbour said she lived there.’
‘It’s our mother who lives in a house like that – in Midsummer Row.’
‘Yes, that’s the name. But I saw Evie going there with the older man, sort of dashing and untidy, but like it didn’t matter, and very good-looking.’
‘Ah, Frederick Bailey,’ said Peter. ‘Our mother lives with Freddie. It’s his house. He’s kind of like our stepfather, I suppose.’
Billy let out a long breath. Everything he’d thought about Evie and the man he’d seen her with had been of his own imagining. What an idiot he was.
‘But what about Evie? You say she’s still in the village? And who is this George Morris, besides a shopkeeper?’
Letty interrupted. ‘Look, Billy, we have to go now to get the bus back down south.’
‘Yes … yes, of course. But what shall I do? Do you think Evie will want me to be in touch with her again?’ Suddenly he felt like a child on his first day at school, completely at a loss. These people knew all about Evie and he knew nothing any more.
‘It’s up to you what you do, and I can’t speak for Evie. But there’s one thing I do know, she’s had a hard time but she’s pulled herself up with the help of Mrs Goodwin and their friends, and none of us wants to see her heartbroken after all she’s been through,’ said Letty.
‘Now hold on a minute—’ began Billy.
‘I only want to see Evie happy,’ said Letty, ‘so, please, think very carefully whether what you do is going to be the best thing for her.’
Billy was silenced for a moment by the young woman’s fierceness. ‘Will you tell her that we’ve met and I asked after her?’ said Billy.
‘No, I won’t,’ said Letty, picking up her guitar case. ‘She doesn’t need to know if you don’t do anything about it, does she?’
She turned away and went over to join her aunt.
‘Bye, Billy,’ said Peter.
‘Thanks, Pete … and mebbe I’ll see you soon.’
Peter grinned and gave a wave as he went to join the others, leaving Billy with a lot to think about on the train journey back to Bolton.
She doesn’t need to know if you don’t do anything about it.
The words went round and round in Billy’s head. Billy’s life had been brought to a standstill by Ada’s death, and he had become used to the same humdrum routine of going to work and coming home to spend his evenings alone.
In his head, he planned what he would say to Evie when he saw her. Of course, he’d also planned his previous visit but the result had been completely unexpected. He knew Evie and Sue lived in the village and that Evie wasn’t married and that lightened his heart.
But then he thought about Letty’s words of warning.
I only want to see Evie happy, so, please, think very carefully whether what you do is going to be the best thing for her.
Perhaps Evie had forgotten all about him. Would going to see her upset her at a time when she was recovering from the death of her father? It would be unforgivable to go stirring up feelings that may well be buried and causing her more distress.
Oh Lord, what to do?
Christmas came and went, and then the New Year. The more he tried to think what to do, the less clear it all became and the further he was from making his mind up.
Then one day on his postal delivery round he met Brendan Sullivan in the street.
/> ‘All right, Billy, lad?’
‘All right, Brendan? I’m not so bad … you know.’
‘Well, you look dreadful, if you don’t mind me saying. What’s the matter?’
So Billy told Brendan everything.
‘What are you waiting for?’ gasped Brendan. ‘It was not acting quickly enough and writing to apologise for that argument at Gerry’s party that got you into this mess in the first place! C’mon, Billy, if this was our Stephen I was talking to I’d give him a boot up the backside and throw him onto the train south myself.’
‘I just thought—’
‘Whatever you thought, you thought wrong. It may work out or it may not, but it’s as certain as the love of God is there’ll be nothing between you and Evie if you don’t go. Is that what you’re choosing?’
At that, Billy pulled himself up, shouldering his mail sack with a straight back where before he had seemed bent under its weight.
‘How could I be so stupid? Thank you … thank you …’ He turned to collect his bike from where it was propped and cycled down the street, waving to Brendan, determined to finish his round and then get the first train south.
Evie sat back in her chair and stretched. It was a dark January morning, and cold in the house, but two cardigans helped keep out the chill. They chatted on happily while Evie resumed her stitching and Sue rested her eyes.
‘You know, Grandma, despite the dreary January days and Dad being gone only a few months I do feel better about … everything, really. I reckon this will be a good year for us.’
‘Yes, love. Now you’re over the worst of your grief for your dad you’ve been a lot more cheerful. That wouldn’t have anything to do with George, by any chance, would it?’
Evie had told Sue all about George’s proposal of marriage and how she’d replied to him. It was testament to George’s generosity of spirit that he and Evie had become even better friends since his proposal but that he had not referred to marriage again. Sue had observed their growing closer and she thought George was a canny man who was playing a long game.
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