You'll Never See Me Again

by Lesley Pearse

  Mrs Wyatt came into the room a little while later, to give Mabel her medicine and some hot milk.

  ‘Thomas is such a lovely young man, and he adores you,’ she said. ‘God only knows what you were thinking about when you ran away from him!’

  ‘I was just asking myself that,’ Mabel said, wincing with pain as she pulled herself up in the bed. ‘We ought to talk about money for my keep. As the police brought my things back, I’ve got some money now.’

  ‘Thomas took care of all that.’ Mrs Wyatt took the pillows from behind Mabel’s back and plumped them up. ‘The doctor’s bill and everything. So all you’ve got to do is concentrate on getting better.’

  ‘He is marvellous. I look such a fright, I wonder he didn’t turn tail and run.’

  While having a bath, she saw herself in the mirror and was shocked at how awful her facial bruises were – not just the black eye but both cheeks and a very swollen lip. But she wasn’t coughing so much now, and her breathing was getting easier all the time.

  Once Mrs Wyatt had gone downstairs again, Mabel closed her eyes and imagined Thomas fighting Murphy in his living room. Just another thing she hadn’t known about her man, that he could fight. And act as a nurse. Somehow, those two new facets of his character made her love him twice as much as before.

  It was another ten days before the doctor said Mabel was well enough to go home. She still coughed a little, especially at night, but her ribs didn’t hurt unless she moved awkwardly. The bruises on her cheeks had gone, and her black eye had faded to a mauve colour.

  She got up and dressed at eight. She was so excited to see Thomas again, as he’d been back in Dorchester all week. She’d put on the navy-blue wool dress that Clara had brought her when she came to visit three days ago. It was one of hers that she seldom wore, but Mabel had often admired it. Clara had been worried that she had nothing warm to wear to go home in.

  It was just after ten thirty when Thomas drove up. Mabel still couldn’t jump out of a chair, but she got up cautiously on hearing the automobile engine.

  ‘Will you look at that!’ Mrs Wyatt exclaimed. ‘He’s brought you a fur coat to wear.’

  He had indeed. A brown musquash coat was draped over his arm as he came in.

  ‘It’s one of my aunt’s but she said to bring it, to keep you snug on the way back,’ he said, helping Mabel into it. ‘I wasn’t sure if you even had a coat with you.’

  Mabel shed a few tears as she said goodbye to Mrs Wyatt, and the older woman did too.

  ‘I’ll never forget your kindness,’ Mabel said as she hugged her. ‘I can’t bear to think what might have happened if you hadn’t taken me in.’

  ‘It was my pleasure having you here, and I’m going to miss you,’ Mrs Wyatt said, drying her eyes on her apron. ‘But you let me know when the wedding’s going to be, don’t forget!’

  ‘We promise you’ll get an invitation,’ Thomas said, and hugged her too. ‘You aren’t going to drop out of our life now, you’ll be part of it forever.’

  Mabel was lost for words as they drove out of Exeter. It was a cold but sunny morning and instead of all the buildings looking grey and dull, as they had when she’d arrived, all at once they seemed to sparkle.

  Once out beyond the city and into the countryside, Thomas reached out for her hand. ‘When we get back to Dorchester, we’ll go straight to Aunt Leticia’s,’ he said. ‘She’s gone to spend a couple of days with a friend and given the maid time off so we can be completely alone. I’ve told Clara too, so she doesn’t worry.’

  ‘Is this so you can have your evil way with me?’ she asked.

  ‘My priority was to make sure you rest and keep warm. We need to talk properly too, with no one interrupting us. But should you feel amorous towards me, then I would be honoured to oblige.’

  Mabel giggled. Thomas had a lovely way of saying things.

  They did make love later that day, but not before Thomas had given her a little lecture on suffrage and better rights for women, something he really believed in.

  ‘Parliament passed the Representation of the People act last year, and they agreed women over thirty, with a property qualification, could vote, as well as men over twenty-one, whether or not they owned property. I know that’s not perfect, Mabel. I and every sensible chap with half a brain would agree women ought to have the vote at twenty-one. But it’s a step in the right direction.

  ‘There’s still the old guard, with outdated views about wives and daughters remaining in the home – or if they are from poorer families, in service. But that is all breaking down now. During the war so many servants went to work in factories that some of the best families had to get by without domestic help. Those women who went to do factory work won’t go back to working as servants now. They’ve got a taste of freedom and they don’t intend to give it up.’

  He smiled at Mabel’s rather bored expression. ‘Yes, well, I’ll get off my high horse now, but I want you to remember that the new society in England needs bright young woman like you, Mabel, and men capable of thinking like me. There have been too many doddering old fools running the country for too long, supported by their bigoted wives. But it is about to change. Even more importantly for me, my brother and aunt both adore you, and you have enchanted every other person I’ve introduced you to. That includes many of the old guard in Dorchester, and the senior partners in my firm.’

  ‘Fair enough, you’ve made your point,’ she said, pretending to yawn. ‘Remind me never to go to court when you’re defending someone! I might be there all week.’

  He lifted her up off her chair then, pretending he was going to drag her off to bed like a caveman.

  ‘I’ll walk willingly,’ she said, making for the staircase. ‘I believe in equal opportunities.’

  28

  February 1920

  The church organ wheezed into life to play Charles Wesley’s hymn ‘Love Divine’ as Thomas and Mabel walked back down the nave together as husband and wife.

  The pews on either side of the nave were packed with Thomas’s relatives from far and near, clients, friends and well-wishers. Mabel had Joan, Percy, Clara and Mr and Mrs Wyatt in place of family, but she too had many friends, made more recently than Thomas’s perhaps, but their delight at seeing their friend getting married today was every bit as genuine. Some were from local businesses, others she’d met while working at the POW camp, or at church.

  Mabel wore a pale pink wool costume with a white fur collar and matching fur hat, while Thomas wore tails, striped trousers and carried a top hat.

  Michael was the best man, dressed like his brother, and Clara was in pale blue as matron of honour.

  ‘How does it feel to be Mrs Kellaway?’ Thomas whispered.

  ‘Very good, sir,’ she whispered back and smiled lovingly at him. She hoped no one had noticed the slight swelling of her belly. Thomas claimed there was no such swelling, but even if there were, he’d be thrilled to announce they had a baby on the way.

  It must have happened that day he brought her home from Exeter, and just the very thought of that afternoon of love in his bedroom at Aunt Leticia’s made her blush at remembered passion.

  Propriety had made it virtually impossible for any further love-making. But as Thomas had said, it was a good reason to marry quickly. He had bought a house for them to live in at Top O’ Town, a lovely double-fronted Georgian house, close to Leticia’s and with the same wonderful view from the back.

  Painters, carpenters and plumbers had worked non-stop since it became theirs, putting in a bathroom and radiators, along with redecorating every room. The boiler in the cellar looked like a fearsome beast to Mabel, but Thomas insisted it was the absolute best that money could buy and should keep them cosy for a lifetime.

  Clara had put Willow Cottage up for sale; she intended to move into town, to be closer to them and other friends.

  Now they were going back to Aunt Leticia’s for the wedding breakfast, and later they would catch a train to London for two nights at
The Ritz, then go on by boat train to Paris where they would embark on the Orient Express all the way to Constantinople.

  Thomas had bought her a beautiful grey fox coat, along with insisting she got innumerable dresses made for the honeymoon. He opened an account for her at a very smart and expensive shop in Southampton to buy her trousseau, including shoes, night clothes, underwear and stockings, and told Clara she was to go with her and spend madly. Having been brought up to be frugal, Mabel would probably have bought only the most basic of clothing. But Clara would have none of that. As she pointed out, they were stopping over in Venice and again in Paris on the way back. Mabel couldn’t let Thomas down by looking like his housekeeper.

  In the past few weeks, sometimes Mabel thought she was in a fabulous, beautiful dream, and she’d wake up back in Harley Place, still a maid, cleaning out fireplaces and polishing silver. It didn’t seem possible that she was going to marry a lawyer, have a splendid house to move into, and would soon be travelling to places like Turkey, Italy and France.

  But for now, Mabel was thinking only about how happy she was to finally be married to Thomas, and anticipating a joyful wedding breakfast with all the people she cared most about.

  ‘So we finally got you there,’ Clara said to Mabel later, in Leticia’s drawing room. ‘But I’m going to miss you so much.’

  ‘By the time we get back from our honeymoon I hope you’ll have sold Willow Cottage and found somewhere near us,’ Mabel said. ‘Then you can hire a maid and I’ll train her.’

  ‘Who would’ve thought that we’d end up like this today?’ Clara said. ‘I knew as soon as Lavinia Forester told me about you that it was going to work out with you being my housekeeper. But I didn’t know then you would become such a dear, dear friend.’

  ‘That’s enough of that or you’ll make me cry,’ Mabel laughed. Since Thomas had brought her back from Exeter, Mabel had moved into Willow Cottage and they had become closer than ever. Clara was the only person who knew she was pregnant, and she’d sworn she would tell no one.

  ‘I’d better go and check Joan and Percy are getting to know people,’ Mabel said. ‘I noticed earlier that Joan was about to start handing round canapés. Old habits die hard.’

  ‘Speaking of old habits,’ Clara said, catching hold of Mabel’s arm, ‘have there been any more psychic incidents?’ She whispered the last bit.

  Mabel hesitated. ‘I’m not absolutely sure, it could’ve just been a dream. But when I was sick, I could hear Carsten urging me to fight to live. He said Thomas was the man I deserved, and I would be happy with him –’ she broke off, looking a bit embarrassed. ‘I imagined it, didn’t I?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Mabel,’ Clara said. ‘I believe Carsten would’ve come back to try and save you. But there’s been nothing else? Not even when Agnes was hanged?’

  Mabel shook her head. ‘Absolutely nothing. I feel it was all related to Carsten’s death. And now it’s all gone. Another thing to forget.’

  ‘That’s good, because it’ll be one less thing for you to worry about. But now you’d better circulate, or I’ll be accused of hogging you,’ Clara laughed.

  Mabel found Thomas talking to Joan and Percy in the drawing room. ‘I was just telling them where we are going on our honeymoon,’ Thomas said. ‘Percy is jealous.’

  Percy laughed. ‘Not just of the honeymoon, but of you two getting married. I keep asking Joan and she says she’s too old and set in her ways.’

  ‘Oh, Joan, that’s silly,’ Mabel said, turning to her friend who was looking extremely attractive in lavender, with a very stylish hat to match. ‘Agree at once, or I won’t send you any postcards from Constantinople. Doesn’t the name conjure up all kinds of magical visions?’

  Joan was blushing furiously. ‘It’s all the fuss that scares me. Weddings are for the young.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Thomas said firmly. ‘They are nothing of the kind, and you don’t have to do a big public ceremony, just two witnesses and that’s it. We could be those witnesses when we get back in the spring.’

  ‘Now there’s an offer we can’t turn down, Joan,’ Percy said. ‘How about it?’

  Mabel could see by the way Joan looked at Percy that she did love him. ‘Go on, say yes, and you can live in his beautiful house and stare at the stunning view of the Avon Gorge every day. Think how much it will annoy Frank Bedford too, when you sell the mews house!’

  ‘Well, those are two of the best arguments I’ve heard yet for her marrying me,’ Percy chuckled. ‘Come on, then, light of my life, will you marry me?’

  Joan’s face was a picture of embarrassment, delight and coyness, all rolled into one. ‘Very well then, Percy,’ she said. ‘But no fuss or a big party.’

  Thomas turned to look at Mabel. ‘Do you see what magical powers we’ve got? I think we could make anything in the world happen, if we just put our minds to it.’

  Mabel only smiled. She already believed that Thomas could do anything he put his mind to. She just hoped their child would have the same gift.

  Acknowledgements

  Firstly, I wish to thank Shelagh Golding for telling me about the tragic destruction of Hallsands. Shelagh and I were close friends some thirty-five years ago, when our children were small. I confided to her my dreams of becoming a published novelist, and we talked books and more books back then.

  It was wonderful that she and her husband Malcolm came back into my life last year, just in time to join the celebrations of my twenty-fifth year in publishing. I just hope they both enjoy this book and take pride in having struck the first spark.

  Secondly, thank you, Rebecca Hilsdon, my editor at Penguin, for all your input and wisdom. You’ve been marvellous, even when I’m grumpy. A true star.

  Then there was Carolyn, a lovely lady at the Courthouse Museum in Dorchester, who gave Carsten and me so much help in finding the most interesting and relevant places to look at in her home town. It was much appreciated.

  Finally, Louise Moore, Emma Draude, Tim Bates, Liz Smith, Claire Bush and Shân Morley Jones for your expertise, and for keeping me going with your enthusiasm and belief in me. I’d be nowhere without you all.

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  PENGUIN BOOKS

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  First published 2019

  Copyright © Lesley Pearse, 2019

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  © Trevillion Images

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  ISBN: 978-0-718-18935-8

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  About the Author

  By the Same Author

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Ch
apter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright