Tilly's Story

by June Francis

  Tilly smiled appreciatively and took one of the mugs. ‘Will you be annoyed if I say yes?’

  ‘Of course, not,’ said Seb, ‘although we miss you.’

  ‘Macaroon, Aunt Tilly?’ said James, offering the plate to her.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Tilly was aware that Alice was watching her as she bit into the macaroon. ‘It tastes good.’

  ‘You don’t have to try and get round me,’ said Alice. ‘I know they’re not as good as Gabrielle’s.’

  ‘Have you heard anything from Seb’s mother?’

  ‘You mean, did we see her at Christmas?’ said Alice, breaking off a piece of macaroon and feeding it to the cat. ‘No. Apparently she was tied up rehearsing for a pantomime for some charity. Obviously it was more important than spending Christmas with her only grandchildren.’

  ‘She did send them some decent presents,’ said Seb.

  ‘She sent me a Noah’s Ark with lots of animals,’ said James, sipping his cocoa. ‘You’ll have to come and see it, Aunt Tilly.’

  ‘Don’t bother her,’ said Alice. ‘You heard your Aunt Tilly. She hasn’t got time.’

  ‘I don’t know why she can’t stay the night and catch an early train,’ said James plaintively. ‘Daddy could run her to the station.’

  ‘Now there’s a thought,’ said Seb, cocking an eye at Tilly. ‘What time do you have to be in the office?’

  ‘Nine o’clock,’ said Tilly, her spirits lifting. It would be great not to have to rush off so soon.

  ‘I could get you to Birkenhead by eight o’clock. You shouldn’t have any trouble catching a train to Liverpool in time,’ said Seb.

  Tilly looked at her sister. ‘If that’s all right with you?’

  Alice shrugged her shoulders. ‘Why shouldn’t it be? Your old room is still there. All you have to do is make up your bed and put a hotty in.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Tilly, looking forward to spending even a little time with her nephews and niece.

  Her sister grilled her later, not only about her job but also about the Wrights and whether she saw much of the other Mrs Bennett. Tilly was able to answer honestly that she saw little of her. Fortunately, her sister did not ask her what she was doing on New Year’s Eve. She could imagine blue smoke coming from Alice’s ears if she told her that she was going to a party at Eudora’s house. So the evening passed quite pleasantly and she took the opportunity to have a bath. There were only two things that marred Tilly’s enjoyment: the first was knowing that her father would so have enjoyed talking to his grandson. The second was that there was no mention of Don Pierce. Tilly assumed that Seb hadn’t any news but she was concerned that this silence might mean that something bad had happened to him on his travels. The thought scared her.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Damn! The engine won’t start,’ said Seb, entering the kitchen blowing on his hands. He held them out to the fire. ‘I was going to drop Freddie and Kenny at the yard on the way but now we’ll all have to walk.’

  Tilly was dismayed. ‘What d’you mean it won’t start? I’ve got to get to work.’

  ‘It must be the cold. I’m sorry, Tilly,’ he said, looking concerned. ‘But I’m sure your boss will understand in the circumstances.’

  Tilly was not as convinced as he was because it was not Mr Holmes she would have to face but Miss Langton and her unpredictable temper.

  ‘Not to worry. I’ll just have to walk to the station and hope the trains will be running on time and I’m not too late.’

  She stood up and went to fetch the winter coat she had taken from her wardrobe. At least her feet were more sensibly clad since she had rediscovered the fur lined button boots that Alice and Seb had given her as a present last Christmas. She turned to the children, who were having their breakfast.

  ‘Sorry, loves, but I’m going to have to go.’

  ‘But you’ll come again soon, won’t you, Aunt Tilly?’ asked Flora, getting up from her chair and going to hug Tilly round the waist.

  ‘As soon as I can,’ said Tilly, stroking the silky soft hair that was the same colour as her own. ‘Or you can come and visit me.’

  Flora looked at her mother. ‘Can we do that, Mum?’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Alice. ‘Now say your goodbyes and finish your breakfast.’

  Goodbyes said, Tilly felt quite tearful as she waved to the family standing on the front step. Then she asked herself what she was getting upset about. At least she had managed to see them before the old year was out and hopefully she would visit them again in the not too distant future. Now she had to get to work and, fingers crossed, she would get there on time.

  * * *

  ‘What time do you think this is to be coming in to work?’ demanded Miss Langton, her eyes hard and cold. ‘I will speak to Mr Holmes and no doubt he’ll tell you to collect your things and go.’

  ‘You mean he’ll sack me?’ said Tilly, unable to conceal her dismay.

  ‘It’s what you deserve. Making eyes at the men who come in here and stealing things.’

  ‘Stealing!’ Tilly’s dismay was replaced by anger. ‘That’s defamation of character, Miss Langton. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. I’m going to complain to Mr Holmes about what you’ve just said.’ She made for the manager’s office.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ said Miss Langton, seizing hold of Tilly’s coat. ‘Just go!’

  ‘No!’ Tilly attempted to shrug off her hand. ‘You’ve gone too far this time.’

  Miss Langton clung to her for dear life. ‘All right. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. We’ll forget your tardy timekeeping this once but don’t let it happen again.’

  ‘I’ve always been on time,’ said Tilly, wondering what was up with the woman, the way she changed her mind from one minute to the next.

  ‘Let’s forget what I said,’ Miss Langton smoothed down Tilly’s sleeve.

  Tilly removed her hand. ‘I can’t let it pass that you called me a thief. I want an apology.’ She darted a challenging glance at the older woman and watched her inner struggle.

  ‘All right,’ burst out Miss Langton. ‘You really are most impudent but perhaps I was a little hasty and it would be difficult to replace you right now.’

  Tilly realised that was the closest she was going to get to an apology. If she had not needed the job so much she would have walked out, but instead she accepted Miss Langton’s apology and hung up her coat. Then she went over to her desk and stowed her handbag and the carrier bag containing her other coat and shoes under the desk. Fortunately, the rest of the day passed off without any further unpleasantness.

  The sight of the sleet coming down caused Tilly to button her winter coat up to her chin and pull down her new woolly hat over her ears before braving the elements. She decided it was not an evening for walking home and caught a tram. As she entered the shop she removed her hat and shook the sleet from it.

  ‘D’you mind?’ asked Wendy, giving a delicate shiver as several frozen drops landed on her face. ‘So why didn’t you come home last night? Decided to stay at your sister’s, did you?’

  Tilly nodded. ‘James wanted me to stay, so I let myself be persuaded, only for the car not to start this morning. I ended up being late for work. Then Miss Langton completely lost her trolley and said I made eyes at all the men that came into the office and that I was a thief into the bargain.’

  Wendy gasped. ‘That’s terrible. What’s wrong with the woman, calling you a thief?’

  ‘I was furious and I almost got an apology from her. Anyway, I’ve still got my job, thank goodness,’ said Tilly. ‘Although, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stick it out.’

  ‘You should write more short stories,’ said Wendy, opening the flap for her. ‘A nice romantic one set in spring.’

  Spring, thought Tilly, wishing it was here now. As she went into the back, she wracked her brains trying to come up with an idea for another story.

  Mrs Wright was in the kitchen, ironing. Tilly greeted her and apo
logised for not coming home last night. She explained what had happened as she shrugged off her coat and sank into a chair by the fire and eased off her sodden gloves.

  ‘I gathered that’s what happened,’ said the older woman. ‘So have you decided what you’re wearing tonight?’

  ‘Tonight? What’s tonight?’ asked Tilly.

  ‘You can’t have forgotten it’s New Year’s Eve and we’re going to the Bennetts’, girl?’

  She smacked her forehead. ‘Yes, I had!’ Her face brightened. ‘I’d better go up now and pick something out to wear.’

  ‘That’s a new coat you’re wearing,’ said Mrs Wright. ‘Hang it on a chair in front of the fire to dry out.’

  ‘It’s not new and neither are the boots,’ said Tilly. ‘They’re at least a year old, but thanks, I will need to dry it out if I want to wear it this evening.’

  ‘Let’s hope the weather changes before then,’ said Mrs Wright. ‘Well, pick out a dress, girl, and if it needs ironing I’ll do it for you. But before then you can make a cuppa for me, you and Wendy, and you could make yourself a slice of toast if you’re hungry. I decided it was a waste of time to cook for us all when there’s bound to be loads of food at the party. Let’s hope this weather changes before eight o’clock; we don’t want to get soaked before we get there.’

  ‘Did Wendy ask Mr Simpson about going?’ asked Tilly, putting on the kettle. There was no sign of the rest of the family and she wondered where they all were.

  Mrs Wright hung a dress on a hanger and hooked it over the picture rail. ‘I believe so. I just hope she’s not getting too fond of that man.’

  Tilly glanced at her landlady as she placed the flat iron on the fire. ‘Why should you think that? I know she talks to him and is always glad to see him but is it any more than that?’

  ‘You tell me, girl. I don’t want her getting any fancy ideas in her head about him. I want her here, helping me. It’s her duty as the eldest girl.’

  Oh dear, thought Tilly. If it was true that Wendy fancied Mr Simpson, then she felt sorry for the girl. Of course, she would make any man a good wife. She could clean and cook and looked after the shop, so must have some kind of business head on her shoulders. But how did Mr Simpson feel about her? As far as Tilly could make out, he didn’t appear to see Wendy in a romantic light at all. In fact, Tilly was convinced it was her he fancied. How did she feel about him? She liked him and was interested in the work he did, but she didn’t really know him, so could say no more than that. She considered marriage and thought that a good wife or husband was worth their weight in gold. She thought of Don and prayed he was safe. She wanted him alive and enjoying the work he was passionate about.

  It suddenly struck her that ‘Worth her Weight in Gold’ was a good title for a romantic short story. Now, what profession could she give her hero? How about his being a mining engineer in South Africa, returning to England, having made his fortune. A confirmed bachelor he had never considered taking a wife until he met the almost Cinderella figure of the lovely but hungry and orphaned Eve. Tilly’s thoughts whirled with possibilities.

  ‘Tilly, you’ve gone into a trance,’ said Mrs Wright in a loud voice. ‘The kettle’s boiling.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Tilly, warming the pot and then making the tea. ‘I was thinking.’

  ‘Now there was me thinking you had turned into a statue,’ said Mrs Wright sarcastically. ‘So what dress is it to be for the party?’

  Tilly did not answer but stared into space before dashing out of the kitchen. She had to write her thoughts down before they escaped.

  ‘That Tilly,’ said Mrs Wright, when her daughter came in from the shop for a warm, having served a rush of customers. ‘She dashed off upstairs as if she had a pack of hounds after her.’

  ‘Did she say why?’ asked Wendy, taking a sip of tea.

  ‘No! Although maybe she decided she’d better get a move on if she wants me to iron her dress for the party. And while I think about it, girl, I don’t want you making eyes at Mr Simpson,’ said her mother.

  Wendy’s face turned beetroot. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Mam!’

  ‘Oh, yes, you do. I’m not having you getting yourself into trouble just so he’ll marry you.’

  Wendy gasped. ‘Bloody hell, Mam! What a thing to say to your own daughter. You should know me better than that.’

  Her mother stared at her hard. ‘I’ll have none of that swearing. I’m not blind and I don’t want you forgetting I need you here. Besides, he’s too old for you.’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ denied Wendy. ‘And he’d notice me more if Tilly weren’t here,’ she muttered.

  ‘I must admit she’s a looker and she could catch him if she wanted,’ said Mrs Wright. ‘She did ask if he was coming to the party, so maybe she is interested in him.’

  The little confidence Wendy had was seriously dented by her mother’s words. She almost wished that she was not going to the party if it meant watching Tilly and Mr Simpson flirting with each other. But it was too late to get out of it now. Besides, was she ready to give up on him without a struggle?

  By the time Mr Simpson arrived at the shop, Wendy was fraught with nerves. There was a glow about Tilly when she came downstairs, wearing a dress that had such style that Wendy felt a frump in comparison to her. When Mr Simpson commented on Tilly’s appearance, Wendy could have wept.

  ‘That’s a really nice frock you’re wearing, Miss Moran,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you, kind sir,’ said Tilly, smiling up at him. ‘It used to be my sister’s but she passed it on to me.’ The gown was of green velveteen and fitted snugly about her waist and hips. The neckline was scooped and trimmed with lace and revealed the slightest hint of cleavage. There was a stole of the same green velveteen to match but she would be wearing her warm coat and hat, gloves and scarf to go out in. Tilly had only worn the gown once before but she had decided that tonight was a fitting occasion to put it on. She was feeling elated. She had rattled off her story on her typewriter in no time and although it needed touching up here and there, she was convinced that she would sell it.

  ‘Call me Grant,’ said Mr Simpson.

  Tilly’s smiled deepened. ‘If that’s what you wish, Mr Simpson. I mean Grant and you can call me Tilly.’

  ‘May I call you Grant, too, Mr Simpson?’ asked Wendy.

  He glanced down at her and smiled. ‘Of course, Wendy. Why not? We’re all friends here, aren’t we?’

  ‘Of course, we are,’ said Tilly, smiling at them both.

  ‘Well, if you’ve settled that,’ said Mrs Wright dryly, ‘we might as well be on our way. At least the sleet’s stopped and we haven’t far to go.’

  Grant offered both girls his arm and with one either side of him, they hurried outside and made their way to Newsham Drive, followed by the rest of the Wright family.

  ‘You do look nice, Tilly,’ said Joy, helping her off with her coat.

  ‘Thanks. It was one of Alice’s,’ said Tilly. ‘The family sent their love, by the way.’

  ‘You managed to get to Chester then?’

  ‘I stayed overnight and was late for work.’ She pulled a face. ‘I was threatened with dismissal.’

  ‘But they didn’t sack you?’

  Tilly shook her head. ‘How’s Dad?’

  ‘His usual self,’ said Joy, hanging Tilly’s coat in the cloakroom and accepting Mrs Wright’s from her. ‘You know he’s been digging holes.’

  ‘I didn’t until Alice told me.’ Some of Tilly’s high spirits evaporated. ‘She thinks he’s mad.’

  ‘Alice would. She won’t give an inch where your father’s concerned. I’ve decided that perhaps his digging these holes and filling them in again is to do with some kind of plan he has for spring planting,’ said Joy with a twinkle. ‘By the way, Mr and Mrs Bennett will expect you to do a turn on the piano. She remembers how good you were as a girl when you had music lessons at her house in Chester.’

  Tilly said, ‘I haven’t played for ages. I had hoped
to have a go on Alice and Seb’s piano but I didn’t get a chance.’

  ‘You don’t forget things like that,’ said Joy, encouragingly. ‘It’s like riding a bike. Why don’t you go and have a practise now while the drawing room is empty?’

  Tilly hesitated, aware that the Wrights and Grant Simpson were watching her. ‘Go on,’ urged Minnie. ‘We’re all waiting to hear if you’re as good as Miss Kirk says.’

  ‘All right,’ agreed Tilly. ‘But don’t blame me if my playing causes you to put your hands over your ears.’ She turned to Joy. ‘Should I ask Mr Bennett’s permission first?’

  ‘If it makes you feel better then do. Last time I saw him he was in the kitchen talking to your father.’

  Tilly thanked her, adding, ‘Do you think Dad will stay for the party this time?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so. You know what he’s like,’ said Joy. ‘But at least you’ll be able to have a word with him here instead of traipsing down the garden.’

  ‘Can I come with you?’ asked Grant, surprising Tilly.

  ‘Why?’ she asked bluntly.

  ‘A couple of reasons,’ he said easily. ‘First I’d like to thank Mr Bennett for inviting me to the party and secondly I heard from that police sergeant I know that your father is a brave man. Apparently he had the guts to face a kidnapper with a gun. It takes nerves for an unarmed man to do that and I admire him.’

  His words touched Tilly. ‘Thank you,’ she said huskily.

  ‘Can I come, as well?’ asked Wendy, slipping her hand through Tilly’s arm. ‘I’d like a word with Uncle Robbie.’

  ‘Perhaps we should all go,’ said Mrs Wright, her eyes on her eldest daughter.

  Tilly said, ‘Could the rest of you follow us on in a few minutes. Dad doesn’t like being surrounded by too many people all at once.’ Without further ado, she hurried from the hall, accompanied by Grant and Wendy.

  To Tilly’s surprise she found several people in the kitchen but her father was not one of them. ‘Hello, Mr Bennett,’ she said, ‘I was hoping to find Dad here.’