Miriam walked into the living room.
She looked at the photograph on the mantelpiece, the happy laughing face of her brother.
‘
Give that rogue of a nephew of mine a kiss, he thinks himself too grown up to let a man kiss him
.’ Rob had laughed the request then, taking her into his arms to say goodbye before returning to his ship, he murmured against her ear, ‘
Watch out for Becky for me
.’
She had tried to do as he had asked, tried to draw Becky closer, to get her to feel truly a part of the Eldon family. But the girl who had once been so ready to spend minutes chatting was now quiet and withdrawn. Becky was no longer the girl she had known, but what had instituted the change? Was some secret behind the change in that girl?
Miriam felt her heart twist.
‘Are you part of that secret, Rob?’ She held the photograph against her breast. ‘Is it one you know about or something waiting to break your heart?’
‘It were a real surprise.’ Alice Butler’s trill paid no mind to shoppers hurrying to find a last onion, maybe cabbage and potatoes from O’Connel’s market stall or, if heaven smiled, a sausage or two from Hollingsworth Butcher Shop. ‘Mother heard tell of it while her were at the cemetery on Sunday. Becky an’ me couldn’t believe it, but then on Monday Nora Bates were full of it, talked of nothin’ else but you and the boss gettin’ married, was her favourite topic all week; Becky and me both said it couldn’t be true, we said that somebody had got the wrong end of the stick, that it must be some other couple: But Nora weren’t havin’ any of that, her were positive there’d been no mistake, said Katrin Hawley and Arthur Whitman were the names had been called in that church.’
‘And Nora would make it her business to find out!’ Katrin’s answer was tart.
Wrapped in a dull red scarf, Alice’s head bobbed like an overripe cherry. ‘Well, you knows Nosy Nora, her can get where castor oil couldn’t, speakin’ of which,’ Alice’s glance swept to both sides to assure herself no one was paying them attention, ‘Becky took herself a big dose of castor oil day before yesterday.’
‘Why did Becky do that, was she ill?’
‘Not afore her took that stuff, but her were sick as a dog afterward. Seems her remembered once hearing her mother and next door talkin’ of a woman who’d drunk half a bottle while sittin’ in a hot bath, said the babby the woman were carryin’ were born within hours. Becky thought if her sat in hot water and swallowed castor oil then it would rid her of the one her be carryin’!’
Anger tingled live along Katrin’s veins. Had Becky induced a miscarriage? To have the child removed would cheat her of a means of injuring Robert Eldon and also the despised Isaac.
‘Did . . .’ She paused, unswallowed anger blocking the words, ‘did it work for Becky?’
‘No!’ Alice snorted. ‘Bloody old wives’ tale be all that were, but true to form Becky believed it!’
‘But didn’t Mrs Turner wonder why Becky drank castor oil?’
‘Never found out. Becky chucked the bottle away afore gettin’ into the bath and as for the sickness, her told her mother it were most likely the fish her’d eaten earlier, said it hadn’t tasted as fresh as it might, anyway . . .’ she left the subject of Becky behind, ‘what about this weddin’ then? You and old Whitman, how long has this been goin’ on? When did he ask you? C’mon, I want to hear all about – Oh Lord!’ She broke off, her glance going past Katrin’s shoulder, ‘Here comes me mother, tell me later at work.’
‘
When did he ask you?
’
Katrin excused herself quickly, the words a sting in her mind. Arthur Whitman had not asked nor would he ever have. He was marrying her because he thought he must, it was his duty. He would discover his mistake in trusting her, just as Jim Slater had found trusting her word had proved a mistake.
A flush of elation had warmed through her when she had read the newspaper report of the findings of the Coroner’s Court.
‘
The deceased was found to have a considerable amount of alcohol in the blood. It is thought due to the effect of this he stumbled, striking his head and causing the bottle he carried to smash against the wall. Upon falling, he landed on the broken glass thus severing a carotid artery. The verdict being death due to accidental causes
.’
Accidental causes! It would be ‘accidental causes’ would result in her own ‘miscarriage’. But unlike Becky’s her ‘child’ would be well and truly lost, but she would still be Mrs Arthur Whitman.
33
Woden Place. The home of Arthur Whitman and her home for the past six months. Katrin glanced about the bedroom she shared with her husband. Elegantly furnished with a taste that of his former wife, she had made no effort to change it. That would come later – as would a change of residence. Though set at the prosperous end of town and facing the prettily laid out Brunswick Park, Woden Place was smart but not smart enough; marriage to a prominent businessman was only the first step.
She crossed the thick Axminster carpet and drew open the drawer of a beautiful marquetry and rosewood bureau, taking from it the box and scarf she had brought with her on her wedding day.
‘What do you think of it, mother? Is Woden Place the home you dreamed you would one day live in?’ Yes! She smiled mockingly, her eyes steel hard. ‘But then, mother, your dreams were always small: Arthur Whitman for a son-in-law, this house to live in, that would have satisfied you, but not me mother, they do not satisfy me. There are steps yet to take, rungs on the ladder yet to climb and I intend to climb them all, right to the top.’
Love? A sneer replaced the smile dying on her lips. ‘No, there is no love, mother, I did what you wanted, I married for wealth, for position, while Arthur married to give his name to a child which does not exist, love did not enter the equation, neither for him nor for me.’
He had tried pretending. In the time preceding his departure for Australia, Arthur Whitman had made love to her, but even in the short space of two months what she had known was no more than physical satisfaction had happened on fewer and fewer occasions until it had stopped altogether. Was that because his mind was caught up in the illusion of having seduced an innocent girl?
Innocent? She threw back the cream satin covered eiderdown. In the Biblical sense yes, but in the mind? Katrin Hawley had not been innocent of mind since that game of hopscotch in a junior school playground, nor would she let that asset slip from her now.
She had fretted that the deviousness would fail, that Arthur would not believe the lies she told that there was no one the Labour Exchange Office could recommend for the post of works manager. But each time she had reported the line engaged, or made any excuse which delayed the threat of herself being relegated to an inferior position within management, Fate had played on her side and created some problem with construction of the machinery designated for Australia.
Fortune had been her team mate. Slipping into bed, Katrin breathed contentment. Arthur had gone to Australia leaving Isaac Eldon and herself as they were.
‘As they were’ could become ‘as they had once been’.
But for that to happen she had to find a way of getting Isaac Eldon gone from Prodor before her husband returned.
‘
What about this weddin’ then? You and Whitman?
’
Katrin could have answered the question, told Alice Butler how Arthur Whitman had allowed himself to be seduced then been fool enough to believe himself a father-to-be. She could tell the girl now, months after that short ceremony attended only by Jacob Hawley, a church deacon and an altar server, both of whom had been requested by the priest to act as witnesses. She could tell Alice of living here at Woden Place and of the husband who so soon had stopped making love to his wife. Becky would no doubt view that as tragedy, but it was no heartache for a woman interested not in the man but only in what he could provide. She intended Arthur Whitman to provide plenty.
She could tell but she would not, she would tell no one. It would continue to be thought she and her husband were deeply in love. She was the wife of the owner of Prodor and New Crown Forgings yet still of little influence should matters concerning dismissal of Isaac Eldon come to a head. He would be deemed of more value to the company than herself.
She must see what could be done to bring about a devaluation.
‘I asked Mr Eldon could I ’ave a minute to come speak with you, I told him I hardly gets to see anythin’ of you since you wed.’
‘Things have become extra busy since Mr Whitman’s departure, it has meant my being here a great deal more than before.’
Trying not to show her distaste for the oil-smudged overalls and smell of slurry, Katrin’s glance was brief and without interest.
‘Eh Kate!’ Alice breathed admiration. ‘This be a real turn up, don’t it Kate? I mean you there in old Whitman’s place, folk could take you to be really the boss ’cept you be a woman; but I bet you be boss along of Woden Place, that be a step up from Hollies Drive eh!’ She shook her turbaned head. ‘Who’d ’ave thought when we was kids together at school, who’d ’ave thought Kate Hawley would one day marry the owner of a factory and go to live in a house smarter even than your mother’s! Her would ’ave been real proud, can’t be no denyin’ of that. Pity her ain’t alive to see what you’ve made of yourself, Kate, her would ’ave been like the goose that laid the golden egg.’
She ought to have put an end to this familiarity months ago! Her position as wife of the factory owner rendered any such approach unacceptable. About to tell her so, the girl’s next words had Katrin thankful she had not made that plain.
‘I just had to tell you, Kate, I had to tell you, Becky’s had her babby.’
‘When?’
‘Yesterday,’ Alice replied. ‘Don’t know exactly what time, mother said the midwife were at the Turners night before last, and was still there when mother seen the little ’uns off to school.’
This was what she had waited for.
‘Becky and the baby, they are both well? Has she had a boy or a girl?’
The face developed a puzzled frown. ‘A lad, that much me mother were told when her called round to the Turners, but when her asked could her see Becky and the babby her were told there was to be no visitors for a while, Becky was tired out and the little ’un? Mother were told he be middlin’.’
Chagrin sped along Katrin’s veins. If the child should not live, then the desire she had nurtured all these months would count for nothing.
Taking a moment to force all trace of frustration from her next question, she spoke with pretended concern. ‘Has the doctor been called, has he said what is wrong with the baby?’
‘Mother asked the same. Said Mary Turner seemed as though her didn’t want to talk about it, in fact her almost showed mother the door. That don’t be the Mary Turner we knowed, that woman couldn’t never wear lipstick, her couldn’t keep her mouth still long enough to put it on; so why the sudden change, Kate? Why the refusal to say anythin’?’
Why indeed? It was certainly not the way neighbours were usually treated and the Turners and the Butlers were long-standing friends. What Becky’s mother had said, was it true or was it a lie? And if the latter what could it have been intended to hide? Was the child somehow deformed? Was that the problem Mary Turner was keeping from her friends, the ‘sickness’ Becky’s child was suffering?
‘I think Mrs Turner is simply being protective.’ She smiled across the desk. ‘Having a baby can’t be the most pleasant of experiences and Becky hasn’t had an entirely easy time, not with morning sickness lasting for most of the nine months. I wouldn’t worry, Alice, give it a few days and Mrs Turner will be welcoming you in to see her grandchild.’
‘You probably be right.’
‘Alice.’ Katrin called to the girl as she turned to leave. ‘Will you let me know when Becky is recovered? I would like to visit.’
Katrin smiled at the closed door. A visit that would enable her to describe to Robert Eldon the child of an American airman.
‘I called round to see Becky today. I wanted to offer some help p’raps with the cleaning or the washing; Becky’s lying in will add a great deal to the chores, especially with nappies needing to be scrubbed and boiled every day.’
‘How is the girl and the little lad?’
‘I didn’t get to see either of them.’ Miriam looked up from a dish she was lining with slices of potato.
‘Didn’t get to see ’em?’ Isaac Eldon slipped a packet of sandwiches into the pocket of his jacket. ‘How be that then?’
‘Her mother said Becky was tired and the child was not so well as it might be.’
Taking up the thick wool scarf his daughter had knitted against the cold of winter nights standing fire watch duties, Isaac tucked both ends inside his jacket before answering. ‘There y’ go then, that be the reason you didn’t get to see the wench and her lad.’
Reason maybe, but the truth? Miriam added a shake of salt and pepper to the sliced potato. Mary Turner had behaved oddly, it had seemed she did not want her there in that house and on hearing the baby cry had virtually pushed her out.