Keep Smiling Through (Beach View Boarding House 3)
Page 37
Breakfast was delicious, with lashings of butter on the toast and two fried eggs to go with the bacon. Rita finally pushed back the plate and patted her stomach. ‘That has certainly set me up for the day,’ she sighed.
‘What time’s your train?’ Louise looked at her over her teacup as they sat at the scrubbed kitchen table.
‘Ten thirty.’ Rita looked at her watch. ‘Roberto’s picking me up at nine as it’s such a long way to the station.’
‘I need to go to the church hall to prepare for tonight’s supper,’ said Louise. ‘If you’re packed, then I could do with a hand.’
She was being very reasonable, and Rita felt tremendous gratitude that Tino had at last made her understand and accept her leaving. ‘Of course, Mamma,’ she said and smiled. ‘I’ll bring my bag down and leave it by the front door with a note to tell Roberto where I am.’
‘That won’t be necessary. I’ve already asked Mrs Hughes to keep an eye out for him. She’ll be back in plenty of time.’
Rita wrote a note to Roberto anyway, and tucked it beneath the handle of her bag as she deposited it on the doorstep. Linking arms with Louise, she accompanied her down the steep cobbled street to the village hall.
Louise unlocked the door and began moving tables and chairs in a businesslike fashion as Rita opened the curtains, found freshly laundered tablecloths and replenished the candles which would be lit if there was a power blackout. Plates and cutlery had been washed and stacked on the drainer in the tiny kitchen, and she carefully laid the tables which had been pushed together to form two long ones.
Half an hour had passed when she stepped back and admired their handiwork, almost sorry that she couldn’t be a part of the noisy, lively gathering tonight. ‘We’d better go back to the cottage,’ she said. ‘Roberto will be here in a few minutes.’
‘Go in the kitchen and find the broom first,’ ordered Louise. ‘There are crumbs on the floor and they’ll encourage vermin.’
Rita went into the kitchen at the back of the hall and was reaching into the cupboard for the broom when she heard the key turn in the lock. Frowning, she tried the handle and pushed at the door. Her heart began to thud. ‘I can’t open the door,’ she called.
‘It’s staying locked until you promise you won’t leave.’
Rita knew now that it had all been an act. ‘I’m not promising you anything, Mamma. Not until you unlock this door.’
‘Then you’ll stay there.’
‘Don’t be silly, Mamma,’ she said, trying her best to keep the panic and anger out of her voice. ‘You know you can’t force me to do anything.’
‘I’m the one with the key.’
Rita checked her watch. Roberto would have left the farm by now and be on his way to collect her. ‘But I’ll miss my train and there isn’t another until next week.’
‘It will give you time to think about your loyalties, Rita. My Roberto has had his head turned by that girl – but now you’re back, he’ll soon realise you are the only one for him. I’ll make sure of it.’
‘He doesn’t love me and I don’t love him,’ Rita shouted. ‘Papa has given me his blessing to go back to Cliffehaven and he’ll be very angry if he finds out what you’ve done.’ She banged her fist on the door. ‘Unlock it, Mamma.’
‘Papa will see things my way,’ said Louise implacably. ‘Your place is with us.’
Horrified, Rita heard her footsteps cross the hall floor and the squeak of heavy hinges on the front door. ‘Louise, if you leave me in here I’ll never speak to you again. Do you hear me?’
The slam of the front door was her only reply.
Rita hit the kitchen door with her fist, rattled the handle and gave it a furious kick. Gathering all her strength and anger, she ran at it, hitting it with her shoulder and bouncing off it with a yelp of pain. All she’d gained was a shooting pain in her arm and hip. The door was sturdy, the handle firmly screwed into place, the lock bolted.
She looked wildly around her. There were no windows, no other way out. Then she remembered there was a larder. It had a small mesh-covered square above the stone shelves which let in cold air from outside.
She looked at her watch again. Time was flying. She had to get out of here – or at least let someone know where she was. She hurried into the big larder and looked up at the mesh. It seemed very sturdy, and had been nailed firmly over the opening.
Returning to the kitchen, she turned on all the lights and began a hurried scrabble through the drawers and cupboards for something to prise out the nails. All she could find were some knives. ‘They’ll have to do,’ she muttered.
The nails were embedded in the wooden surround, some of them at a twisted angle, the heads battered and difficult to get beneath. She broke the shaft of the first two knives as she desperately tried to get leverage and her hands became slick with sweat. She cut her finger twice, but she hardly noticed, for all her focus was on her task.
She was sweating profusely now, her hands sticky with blood, her shirt and sweater clinging unpleasantly to her back. But she gritted her teeth and carried on. Roberto would be at the cottage now. He would see the bag and her message. He would come to find her.
But Louise had left some time ago. Had she returned to the cottage, found her note and hidden it and the bag away? Was she, at this minute, telling Roberto she’d decided to stay? But how could she explain where Rita was? Would Roberto believe her?
The thoughts and arguments raged in her head as inch by painful inch the nails slowly came out. Cutting her hands on the sharp wire mesh, she wrestled with it, peeling it back like the lid on a sardine can.
She stopped to catch her breath and look at her watch. If she wasn’t discovered soon she would miss the train. But the square opening was too narrow for her to climb through – not even big enough to be able to stick her head out.
Rita stood on tiptoe and craned her neck, discovering that the opening overlooked the side garden of the hall. Beyond that was a big field without a house in sight. She yanked off her sweater and waved it. ‘Help me,’ she yelled. ‘Help! Is anyone there? I’m locked in the village hall.’
She listened as the seconds ticked away. The only sound she could hear was the lowing of cows and the drum of her heart. ‘Help,’ she screamed, waving the jumper frantically through the hole. ‘Help! Help!’
It was now after nine o’clock and it was almost an hour’s drive to the station. The train would be on its way, getting ever nearer – and she would not be there to catch it.
She had a sudden thought that Louise might be outside the hall, waiting for her to give in. ‘Louise,’ she yelled furiously. ‘If you can hear me, then open this door. I promise to do whatever you say, just let me out of here so we can talk.’ She had absolutely no intention of discussing anything with Louise, but if it meant being freed she didn’t care what promises she made.
‘It’s all right, Rita. I’m coming to get you.’
‘Roberto?’ She pressed her face against the opening. ‘Roberto?’ she called again, wondering if in her panic and distress she’d been hearing things.
The key turned in the door behind her and she whirled round.
Roberto caught her as she fell off the stone shelf, and she clung to him. ‘I thought you’d never find me,’ she rasped, her throat sore from shouting.
‘Papa came with me and made Mamma tell him where you were. We both knew you didn’t want to stay.’ He gently steadied her. ‘She told me she wanted us to marry, to all live together.’ He looked at her warily, a question in his eyes.
‘Neither of us wants that,’ she said firmly. ‘You have Nuncia, and I’m sorry, but I don’t love you – not in that way.’
‘We’re to be married in the summer,’ said Roberto, ‘and I would ask you to the wedding if the journey here wasn’t so difficult.’ He kissed her on her hot forehead. ‘Come, Rita, your bag is in the Land Rover, and we should make the station in time if we hurry.’
They left the hall door swinging as they ran do
wn the short path and piled into the truck. ‘Where’s Louise?’ she asked as Roberto turned the key.
‘Papa has taken her for a long walk to calm her down. He sends his love.’ He shot her a glance. ‘She’ll be fine. You know how Mamma is.’
Rita did indeed, but she kept that dark thought to herself.
The train was just pulling in as they clambered out of the truck and raced for the platform. Rita threw her arms around him. ‘I’ll write regularly,’ she promised, ‘and good luck on your wedding day. Nuncia’s lovely, and I’m sure you’ll be very happy.’
He was still standing on the platform as she found a seat by the window and the train began to chuff slowly away from the little station halt.
She waved to him until he was lost in the clouds of smoke and steam and then sank back into her seat. She was free to follow her dreams, free to be young and carefree again, but her smile was wry as the train clattered along the rails.
The greatest irony of all was that for all her dreams of adventure, she now simply wanted to go home. Home where the heart lay. For Roberto, it was here in this Welsh valley with Nuncia and his parents. For Rita, it was in Cliffehaven with Peggy and the family who lived at Beach View Boarding House.
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Copyright © Ellie Dean 2012
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This novel is a work of fiction. Apart from references to actual historical figures and places, all other names and characters are a product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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