Bye Bye Love (25 page)

It was impossible to hold her tongue when she took the children round to the Harringtons’ the next evening, but she did manage to stay coldly polite.

‘I need to speak to you. There’s something we need to sort out,’ she told Mrs Harrington.

Her mother-in-law’s face stiffened. ‘I can’t think what.’

Something about the expression in her eyes convinced Scarlett that she knew exactly what.

‘I’ll be here at about half past one tomorrow,’ Scarlett told her, trusting that Nell would agree to have the children at such short notice.

Mrs Harrington hardly said a word to her when she picked the children up the next morning. Scarlett reminded her that she would be round later. She realised that it sounded like a threat, but she didn’t care. The Harringtons were threatening her life with her children, so she had to fight like with like.

Dead on time, she flung open the Harringtons’ front gate, marched up their path and banged on their door. Mr Harrington opened it. For a moment she was taken aback. She hadn’t expected to see him. He was usually at work during the day.

‘You’d better come in,’ he said.

He waved her into the stiff front room, where Mrs Harrington was waiting for her, sitting very upright in one of the armchairs on one side of the sulky-looking fire. Mr Harrington claimed his armchair on the other side. Both of them fixed Scarlett with a cold stare as she sat on the sofa. No tea was offered.

‘Where are the children?’ Mrs Harrington asked.

‘My employer’s minding them.’

Her parents-in-law exchanged a glance that said, We were right.

‘Now,’ Mr Harrington said, ‘what’s all this about, then?’

Scarlett had tried to plan this meeting, so she stopped herself from saying, You know flaming well what it’s about. Instead, she launched into an explanation.

‘My neighbour told me that a lady from the welfare had been round asking questions about me. Asking whether they’d seen men going in and out of my flat. I was upset about that. Very upset.’ It didn’t need any acting to get a wobble into her voice. Just talking about what had happened brought the shock and hurt of it all back again. ‘To think that someone should even suspect me of doing—that. It’s horrible. And then to go and report me to the welfare.’

She stopped and looked at Mrs Harrington. Her mother-in-law had her hands clasped very tightly in her lap.

‘If someone reported you, it must be because they thought there was something to report,’ she accused.

‘Well, that someone was wrong. I’ve got nothing at all to be ashamed of. All my neighbours know that. They’ll all have told the welfare woman that. There’s one or two opposite me what spend their lives looking out of their windows and they’d soon know if I was up to no good.’ There was an edge to Scarlett’s voice. ‘So all the welfare woman will’ve found out is that that someone is just out to make trouble.’

‘She’ll have found out that you take those poor little babies to a public house each day, and that they’re living in a flat with a drunkard,’ Mrs Harrington stated.

Somehow ‘a drunkard’ sounded a whole lot worse than ‘a drinker’.

‘Don’t you call my father that,’ she warned.

‘I speak as I find. He couldn’t even stay sober for the wedding.’

This was true, so Scarlett ignored it.

‘You’ve no right to call my father names,’ she said.

‘You’ve no right to be bringing up our grandchildren in a home that’s morally unfit,’ Mrs Harrington retorted.

‘Steady on, Betty—’ Mr Harrington warned.

There was a deathly silence while they all took in the implications of what had been said. Then Scarlett stood up. Her knees felt shaky, but she could not stay sitting in the same room as these people.

‘I love those children more than my life,’ she told them. ‘They’re well fed, they’re clean, they’re healthy and they’re happy. Most of all, they’re loved. So I’ll thank you to stop trying to stir up trouble.’

‘No one’s trying to stir up trouble. We just want what’s best for the children,’ Mr Harrington said.

‘If your precious son hadn’t gone off to play his guitar in foreign nightclubs, I wouldn’t have to go out to work and take the children with me,’ Scarlett pointed out. ‘So, if you want to carry on seeing them, you’d better think about that.’

With which she marched out of the door. Her anger took her halfway up the road. Then the full meaning of what the Harringtons were up to hit her. Shock and fear made her legs go weak beneath her and she had to sit down on a front wall. She was shaking all over. They wanted to take her children away from her!

‘They can’t do that,’ she said out loud.

But what if the welfare people saw things the same way as the Harringtons? What if they thought a pub wasn’t a suitable place for small children to be? What if they were to see her father on one of his bad days?

It didn’t bear thinking about. One thing was for sure, she’d get on a train and run away with the children rather than let anyone else have them. No one was going to take them from her.

‘L
OOK
, we’re passing Buckingham Palace,’ Jonathan said, pointing at it through the taxi window. ‘That’s where the Queen lives.’

The taxi was an extravagance, but Corinne had brought so much luggage that he didn’t see how they could lug it all through the underground and then along the streets from Tower Hill to Fenchurch Street. And besides, Corinne was still feeling the after-effects of being seasick during the Channel crossing.

Corinne followed his gaze.

‘Oh, yes. It’s very nice.’

‘And there are the guards, see? In their red jackets and busby hats.’

Unbidden into his mind came the children’s rhyme about changing the guard at Buckingham Palace. With it came the memory of the last time he had shown someone the Palace. Scarlett had been absolutely thrilled to see it.

He’d quoted the first line of the poem to her.

Scarlett had laughed and come right back with the next line.

Of course, Corinne couldn’t be expected to know that. She had been brought up on Babar the Elephant, not Christopher Robin.

‘Now we’re going down The Mall,’ he told her.

‘Mmm—nice, but it is not as grand as the Champs Elysée.’

It was a pity the weather was so bad. London was not at its best in the rain. He pointed out all the places of interest on the way, but he had to admit that London did look grimy and dirty. It didn’t have the elegance of Paris.

‘This is St Paul’s Cathedral,’ he said.

‘It is not as beautiful as Notre Dame,’ Corinne decided.

He was glad when they turned into Fenchurch Street and pulled up outside the station. It had been a very long day and they were both getting scratchy. He paid the taxi driver and hauled their suitcases onto the pavement. Corinne looked up at the station.

‘Not as fine as the Gare du Nord,’ she commented.

‘Well, it’s not an international station, is it? It’s only going to Southend,’ Jonathan snapped.

He picked up the two largest cases and left Corinne to bring a smaller one and two bags. She tottered behind him on her stiletto heels, complaining that he was going too fast. He turned and waited for her, and his irritation turned to pride. She did look so chic, so very French—tall and slender with a tiny waist, her dark hair pinned up in an elegant pleat. Very lovely, and all his. His fiancée.

‘Nearly there now,’ he said. ‘This is the last lap.’

To his relief, there was a fast train waiting at one of the platforms. Corinne sank into a window seat and lit up a Gauloise. Jonathan heaved the cases onto the luggage rack, sat down beside her and took her hand. Her pretty face was drawn with fatigue.

‘Nearly home now,’ he said.

‘I hope your parents will like me,’ Corinne said.

‘They’ll love you,’ Jonathan assured her.

‘And you, do you love me, Jonathan?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘Then say it, say it to me.’

‘I love you, my little cabbage.’

He was glad they were speaking in French. They were getting curious glances from fellow passengers, but at least nobody could eavesdrop on their conversation. The language barrier was one of the things that concerned him about this visit. Corinne had only schoolgirl English and his parents spoke no French at all, but he would be there all the time to translate, so there shouldn’t be too many problems. He was much more worried as to whether Corinne was going to like England.

The train started up and trundled through the East End with its rows of tiny impoverished houses and occasional bomb sites, then into the suburbs and the vast council estates of Dagenham and Becontree till eventually they came out into the green countryside of south Essex. The weather brightened up. There was even a little watery sunshine. When they passed Laindon, Jonathan insisted that they sat on the right-hand side of the carriage.

‘We’ll soon catch the first glimpse of the sea,’ he told Corinne.

She was not very impressed with the muddy creek at Benfleet.

‘This is not the seaside,’ she objected.

‘But there are boats.’

‘Pff! Boats. I do not like boats.’

‘You don’t like ferries. Ferries are enough to make anyone feel sick. Small boats are quite different.’

He hoped she would like sailing. It was a bit early in the year, but if they got some sunny days he wanted to take her out on the water. At Leigh-on-Sea he opened the window and stuck his head out, breathing in the aroma of seaweed, shellfish, salt and mud. The smell of home. The train ran through the fishing village and then alongside the Thames estuary for a while. To Jonathan’s delight, the tide was in.

‘There,’ he said, waving a hand at the grey-green waves and the sailing dinghies bobbing at their moorings. ‘Now we’re at the seaside.’

‘Mmm—’ Corinne brightened up and began to show an interest. ‘It is very pretty. Are we nearly there? Is this Southend?’

‘Just two more stations, then we’re there.’

It was only a short taxi ride from the station to the Trafalgar, but Corinne seemed taken with what she saw. The cheeriness of Southend won her over.

‘What is at the end? We must go and see!’ she exclaimed, as they looked down on the pier.

‘We will,’ Jonathan promised.

The meeting with his parents went well. Corinne managed to understand a lot of what they said, she was delighted with the view from the windows of the flat and she liked the guest bedroom. His parents appeared to like Corinne and were pleased with her gifts of chocolates and cigars. Jonathan began to relax. It was going to be all right.

Over dinner, his mother asked Corinne about her family.

‘I got a very nice letter from your mother, thanking me for inviting you. You’re an only child too, aren’t you? Like Jonathan.’

‘Oh, yes. It is just me. No brothers or sisters. My mother is very careful for me.’

Jonathan smiled to himself. Careful was hardly the word. Corinne had only been allowed on this visit because they were going straight to his parents’ home, and only then after an exchange of letters to make sure that their precious daughter would be properly chaperoned.

‘That’s only natural,’ his mother said. ‘Pretty girl like you, they want to make sure you’re all right, don’t they? Your father’s got a jewellery shop, then?’

‘Yes. We sell the jewellery and my father mends the watches and clocks also.’

‘Nice line to be in,’ Jonathan’s father commented.

‘Line?’ Puzzled, Corinne looked at Jonathan. He translated.

‘Ah—yes—it is a good business, yes.’

‘And you serve in the shop?’

‘Yes. I like to show to the ladies the beautiful necklaces and earrings. I like especially the diamonds.’

‘We all love diamonds,’ Jonathan’s mother said, looking at the sparkling new eternity ring on her knobbly finger.

‘Girl’s best friend, eh?’ his father said.

‘
Pardon?
’

‘
Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend
. Marilyn Monroe.’

‘Ah! Marilyn Monroe. The song. Yes.’

‘And your parents don’t mind you getting engaged to a chef?’

‘Chef is very good profession. Very—honoured?’

‘Honourable,’ Jonathan supplied. ‘In fact, Mum, Dad, Corinne’s parents have offered to give us some money towards starting a restaurant. That’s one of the reasons we’re here. I think it would be better to start a business here, where a good French restaurant would be a novelty. I’m hoping to persuade Corinne that she’d like to settle in England.’

It had the effect he wanted. His parents were impressed, delighted—and not to be outdone.

‘That’s very kind of them, I’m sure. But I wouldn’t want them to think that we can’t give you a bit of a start in life,’ his mother said. She gave her husband a significant look. ‘Would we, Arthur?’

‘What? Oh—no—of course, we’ll cough up some to get you going, son. I’m sure you’ll be a good bet.’

‘Cough up? Bet?’ Corinne asked.

‘Give us some money. As an investment,’ Jonathan substituted.

‘Oh, but that is wonderful! You are very good, very kind!’ Corinne exclaimed. She jumped up and kissed both his parents on the cheek. ‘We will be big, big success, I am sure. Jonathan is wonderful chef. Very, very talented. And me, I will be front of ’ouse and make the big welcome for everyone. Soon all of this Southend will eat with us, I think.’

‘We might find it’s better to set up in London,’ Jonathan reminded her. He wasn’t sure that Southend was ready for French cuisine.

‘No, no. I don’t like London. It is dirty. But this Southend is very nice. I like it ’ere.’

Jonathan decided to leave it at that for now. His parents were obviously charmed by Corinne and his pitch for their help had gone better than in his wildest dreams. The details could be settled later.

For the next few days he showed Corinne round town and introduced her to some of his old friends. Graham was married and living in a little house in Southchurch. They went to visit them.

‘You know who she reminds me of?’ Graham said, when the two women were in the kitchen.

‘No, who?’

‘Scarlett. Same height, same colouring, everything.’

‘I like brunettes,’ Jonathan said.

‘Yeah, if you say so, mate. She’s certainly a looker. I saw her, you know. Scarlett.’

Jonathan’s heart gave a painful twist, leaving him shaken. He had persuaded himself that he was over Scarlett. He had Corinne now. They were engaged to be married.

‘Oh, yeah?’ he said, trying to sound uninterested.

‘It was on the sea front, ages ago. Couple of years, maybe. It was pouring with rain and she was walking along with this kid in a pram. She didn’t look very happy.’

Jonathan just had to ask. ‘Did she mention me?’

‘Don’t remember, mate. We only passed the time of day.’

The women came back into the room and the subject was dropped, but Jonathan remained uncomfortably disturbed. Just that mention of Scarlett stirred up so many memories that it was difficult to concentrate on what the others were saying. Walking back along the sea front with Corinne, he found himself reliving the times he had walked there with Scarlett.

Try as he might, he couldn’t get her out of his head. He lay awake that night wondering about her. Was she still living in the same flat in Westcliff as when he had last seen her? Was she happy? The generous part of him hoped she was. She’d had a lot of sadness in her life, she deserved a break. And yet—and yet the vengeful side of him hoped she was regretting finishing with him. It had taken him a long time to recover from her betrayal. He had never really forgiven her.

A couple of days later he received a phone call from another of his old gang.

‘Hello, Jonno. Heard you were back. And with a gorgeous French fiancée, so Graham says. Look, we thought it’d be good to all meet up somewhere tomorrow, and bring our womenfolk with us so your girl’s got someone to talk to. What do you reckon? Someone said the Horse and Groom is a nice pub. Do you fancy coming along?’

Jonathan thought the evening might be a bit of a strain for Corinne, meeting so many new people at once, but her English was improving by the day and, if she was going to front their restaurant, she needed plenty of practice in conversation. He accepted.

It was Friday evening, and the pub was crowded when he and Corinne went in to the lounge bar. One of his pals jumped up from a seat and waved at them.

‘Jonno! Over here!’

There were a lot of them now that most had girlfriends or wives. They had pushed three tables together and already had a round of drinks in. Two more seats were found and introductions made.

‘I’ll get some drinks. Anyone ready for another?’ Jonathan asked.

It was only when he turned towards the bar that he recognised the young woman standing behind it. Scarlett.

His immediate reaction was one of anger. Who had set him up like this? He could feel eyes on his back, waiting for fireworks. For Corinne’s sake, for his own sense of pride, he made his way steadily across the room. The other people in it hardly existed. They were just obstacles in his way. His eyes devoured Scarlett. She looked as beautiful as ever, her dark hair done up in a fashionable beehive with a long tail hanging over her shoulder. She was serving an elderly man, laughing and joking with him. Jonathan watched her sure movements, her air of confidence. She looked happy, at home, very much in charge.

She took some money from her customer and glanced round to smile and nod to those who were waiting.

‘Be with you in a minute, sir—’

And then their eyes met. Scarlett put a hand on the bar to steady herself.

‘Jonathan!’

‘Hello. Long time, no see.’ He wanted to kick himself. What a stupid thing to say. ‘I…er…I didn’t know you worked here. I came with the gang…’ he explained.

She was still staring at him as if she had seen a ghost.

‘I dreamed about you last night, and now here you are,’ she said.

‘Here I am,’ Jonathan repeated. This was terrible. He wanted to jump over the bar, take her in his arms and kiss her.

‘That’s one and nine pence change, Scarlett, love,’ her last customer called. ‘When you’re ready, like.’

‘Yes, yes…’

Her cheeks flaming, Scarlett went to the till, rang up the money and gave the man his change. In the short time that took, Jonathan knew he had to tell her the situation now, at once. Leaving it any longer wasn’t fair. She turned back to him. They both spoke at once.

‘How are—?’

‘Scarlett, I—’ he stopped, then started again. ‘Scarlett, I’m here with my fiancée.’

‘Ah.’

‘I really didn’t know you were working here.’

‘No, of course not.’ She forced a smile. ‘Congratulations. You must introduce me. Which one is she?’

There was a professional cheeriness in her voice that chilled him to the heart. Jonathan turned and indicated Corinne, who was watching him. He smiled at her and waved. Graham was right, the two women did look very similar. Corinne blew a kiss.

‘She’s very pretty,’ Scarlett said. ‘So what can I get you?’

‘What? Oh—’ He rattled off his round of drinks.

Scarlett set about pulling pints and pouring Martinis and Babychams, all the while asking him how he was and how long he would be staying in that artificially bright voice. Jonathan replied in the same fashion. He paid, she brought the change.