It was dark by the time they reached the place where they had to part but Rebecca didn’t mind this. She was less likely to be spotted by someone. As Constance called Jake to heel, Rebecca touched her arm. ‘Thank you,’ she said awkwardly, suddenly shy again. ‘I hope you didn’t mind me intruding.’
‘You didn’t.’ Constance smiled at her. ‘You were my first visitor and I can’t think of a nicer one. I hope we see each other again now I’m back in the area. You must come for tea one day and bring your Larry, and – and your da, of course. Once you and I have met officially, that is.’
Rebecca grinned. ‘I’ll have to remember I don’t know you, won’t I? But once you’ve seen Gran I’ll get Da to come and say hello. Perhaps on Sunday afternoon? I could bring Larry too.’
Constance’s heart bounded in her chest. ‘Please do.’ She and Jake stood watching Rebecca until the girl turned and waved just before a bend in the road hid her from view.
Constance looked down at the big dog who gazed back at her with soulful eyes before giving a soft whine. ‘I know, she’s nice, isn’t she, and the last thing we expected was a visitor out of the blue.’ She ruffled the wiry hair on the long head. ‘I think this is a good omen, lad. Don’t you?’ Her gaze returned to the dark road. ‘Please, God, please let it be a good omen,’ she whispered. ‘Please let him want me. I don’t mind waiting. I’ve waited years as it is.’
Jake whined again, louder, bringing her attention back to him. ‘You’re nothing but a cupboard love,’ she said softly. ‘You want your dinner, don’t you, and who can blame you after what you’ve been through? Come on then, let’s go home.’
Rebecca was humming to herself as she approached the house via the back lane. The snow had held off and Constance had agreed to see her grandma tomorrow. And she was lovely. Not a bit uppity as she’d half-expected. And Appleby Cottage – oh, she wished her grandma could see inside. Her eyes would pop out.
Engrossed in her thoughts, she was halfway down the backyard before she realised there was a light in the kitchen. She stopped, her brow wrinkling. Her da was on the afternoon shift, so it couldn’t be him, but who else would be in their kitchen? Quickly now she entered the house, not stopping to take off her boots before she opened the scullery door leading into the kitchen. As she did so, her father looked up from where he was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of him.
‘Da?’ Her voice was high. Something was wrong. ‘Why are you home? What’s happened?’
‘Your granda had an accident.’ He raised his hand as she went to speak. ‘He’s all right, just a broken leg. There was a bit of a fall and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We got him up and the doctor’s seen him and he’s back home with your grandma. He was asleep when I left.’
Rebecca sat down on one of the kitchen chairs as her legs went weak. For a moment she had thought . . .
‘I called in at the shop to tell you.’
Her eyes shot to her father’s face. She suddenly realised his voice hadn’t been the same when he told her about her granda.
‘They told me you were home with an upset tummy so I came here. That was at four o’clock. It’s now’ – he looked at the clock on the mantelpiece above the range – ‘gone half-five. Where have you been, Rebecca?’
He knew. She could see it in his eyes. They had lost their usual velvety softness and were gimlet hard. Swallowing, she said, ‘I can explain. I had to tell them I was ill.’
‘Oh aye? Why was that then?’
‘I – I couldn’t stop thinking about Grandma and how she’d looked after Mrs Mullen had told her about Constance, and so – and so I . . .’ She drew in a deep breath; she had never seen him so angry, not with her anyway. ‘I went to Appleby Cottage.’
‘Despite the fact I’d specifically forbidden it?’
‘You didn’t, not exactly. You said you wouldn’t go but you didn’t say I couldn’t.’
‘So you thought I would approve of you lying to your employers and skiving off for the afternoon in order to demean yourself by begging Miss Shelton to do your grandma the great honour of visiting her? Is that it?’
Put like that it sounded awful. ‘It – it wasn’t like that. Constance isn’t like that.’
‘And you had no intention of telling me about this, had you? Nor your grandma, I presume.’
Rebecca hung her head.
‘
Had you?
’ he persisted grimly.
‘No.’
‘Do you understand what you have done? Have you any idea of the position you’ve placed us in? To go and see a virtual stranger and blackmail her with the past into doing something she obviously had no wish to do. What were you thinking of?’
‘I tell you it wasn’t like that.’ Her voice was harsh now in an effort to stop the tears from falling. ‘Constance was lovely and she made me welcome and showed me round the cottage and everything, and it might be grand and beautiful and she might have pots of money but she isn’t uppity about it. She wants us to go and have a cup of tea with her Sunday afternoon and she wants to meet Larry and she’s going to see Gran tomorrow.’
Before she had closed her mouth on her words she knew she had made a mistake. His face had been red and angry before, now it was as black as thunder. He’d hardly ever raised his voice to her in the past, now it was a bellow as he shouted, ‘You say I didn’t forbid you to go before? Well, I’m forbidding it now, is that clear? You put all thoughts of visiting her again out of your mind, my girl, or so help me, big as you are, I’ll take it out of your hide.’
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, but as the tears spilled over she saw his face change and he became her da once again. Moving swiftly, he came to crouch down beside her chair, taking her in his arms as she shook with her sobbing. He held her until she was calmer, then he stood up, bringing her with him. Cupping her wet face in his big work-scarred hands, he said gruffly, ‘I’m sorry, hinny. I shouldn’t have gone for you like that but there’s things here I can’t explain, and you going to see her like that . . . Well, it’s made it worse, lass. She was a working girl when she left these parts, but by your own admission she’s risen in the world, she’s a lady now. And that’s good and fine, I’m not knocking what she’s accomplished, but it makes things different, lass. Do you see?’
She shook her head slowly. She didn’t want to make him angry again but she
didn’t
see.
‘I’m a miner, lass. You’re a miner’s daughter and your granda and his granda before him were miners, same as on your mam’s side. We get by but that’s all we do, and now your granda is going to be laid off for goodness knows how long we’re going to be even more strapped because we’ll be paying their rent and buying their food until he’s able to work again, if ever. The break was a bad one and your granda’s not a young man. In truth he should have left the pit a couple of years ago. It might be after the doctor’s had another look at that leg in a week or two that he says he won’t be able to work again and then they’ll have to let the house go because running two houses is beyond me, lass. Then it’s either the workhouse for them or moving in with us, do you see? It’ll mean they have the front room and my wage and yours provides for the four of us.’
‘But . . .’ She hesitated.
‘What?’
‘What’s that got to do with me going to see Constance?’
Matt closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them as he stared into Rebecca’s troubled face for a long moment. ‘The Constance I knew had a soft heart, hinny, and from what you’ve said she still does. We – we don’t want charity, all right? Not from her or anyone else. I’ll provide for my own.’
‘But, Da—’
‘I mean it, Rebecca. This is not open for discussion.’
Rebecca stared at him. There was something more here she couldn’t grasp, something her mind was dimly searching for. But he meant it. She could see he meant every word. Brokenly, she murmured, ‘But I said we’d go, Da. On Sunday, I mean. The three of us. I said we’d go and she was going to get us tea.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t have.’
‘She’ll – she’ll be waiting, expecting us.’
‘Then let that be a lesson to you on promising what’s not yours to promise,’ he said grimly.
‘Da, please. It’s not her fault and I’d feel awful.’
‘All right, all right.’ He raked back his hair irritably as he let go of her. ‘I’ll go and see her before then and explain that we’re not coming but it’s a damn awkward position you’ve placed me in, young lady. Damned awkward.’
‘I know.’ Her voice was quiet, tearful. ‘I’m sorry, Da. I just thought Gran would be so pleased to see her.’
‘Aye, and I’m sure she will be. We’ll keep the matter of your part in it to ourselves though, all right?’
‘Oh yes, that’s what Constance and I agreed,’ Rebecca said eagerly. ‘She was so nice, Da, and beautiful. To think you saved her life all them years ago when she was just a baby.’
Matt turned away. He couldn’t take any more of this. He’d known full well where Rebecca had gone the minute he’d got in and found she wasn’t here, and it was as well for the lass she hadn’t walked in at that moment because he wouldn’t have been responsible for his actions. Dear gussy . . . He reached for his cup on the table and drained the last of his tea before saying, ‘Put the kettle on, hinny, and we’ll have a fresh brew.’
What a day. When the roof had fallen and he’d heard the scream, he’d somehow known it was his da. Flesh calling to flesh. George and Andrew had been the same. Between them they’d got him out and into the cage, but looking at his da’s leg then he’d felt the old man’s days down the pit were over. And not before time too. For the last year or so his da had left a shift grim and quiet and looking as though he could hardly put one foot in front of the other. He was coming up for seventy; he should be enjoying the little time he’d got left pottering about and sitting and talking with his pals over a bevy come evening, but there were few miners who could afford to stop until they were too broken-down to do anything else – and by then it usually meant they were having all the rest they wanted in a wooden box within weeks. Most of his da’s pals couldn’t walk more than a yard or two without stopping to catch their breath, and nearly all of them had bad backs and gammy legs and goodness knows what.
Rebecca had taken off her hat and coat and changed into her slippers. Now she put the kettle on and bustled about setting the table. He caught her hand as she passed him, his voice soft as he said, ‘You’re a good lass, none better.’ And he meant it. She tried to look after him and keep the house running smoothly and rarely thought of herself, bless her. ‘And I know you did what you did for your gran, but what if Mr and Mrs Turner had found out what you were about? No more jaunts, eh, lass?’ He smiled to soften the admonition.
‘No more, Da. I promise.’
But the damage was done. He had hoped to avoid Constance over the next little while and, in the unlikely event that their paths crossed, be cordial and polite whilst intimating he had no intention of presuming on their former friendship just because she was now a wealthy woman in her own right. Rebecca’s little escapade had put paid to that. Had Constance felt obliged to invite them round on Sunday? He groaned inwardly. Probably. And now he was going to look like a damn fool whatever he did. Dear gussy, what a mess . . .
The next morning, Matt dressed in clean clothes from his underwear up after taking a bath in front of the range once Rebecca had gone to work. He didn’t question why he did this. He knew it was all to do with the scent of Constance that had tormented his senses for days after the last time he had seen her. A scent which had nothing to do with the cloying cheap eau de Cologne some lasses favoured and which he’d never particularly liked, and all to do with donning freshly laundered clothes after a warm scented bath, of having clean hair and clean nails.
He inspected himself in front of the thin mottled mirror on the back of the wardrobe door once he was ready to leave the house. He was as clean as soap and water could make him, he thought wryly, walking down the stairs and pulling on his Sunday greatcoat and best cap, both of which were beginning to show the signs of wear. But they would have to do. He looked every inch what he was, a working-class man, and he didn’t intend to apologise for it either.
On the walk to Appleby Cottage he didn’t allow himself to think about what he was going to say or do. He concentrated on covering the distance as quickly as he could and kept his mind blank. It hadn’t snowed again since the day before. The sky had cleared at some point during the evening and a heavy frost had fallen through the night. Now, at half-past nine in the morning, the air was thin and sharp and the blue sky high without a cloud to be seen. In other circumstances he would have enjoyed such a morning in the fresh air.
When he reached the cottage, he didn’t pause before he opened the gate and made his way to the front door. He wouldn’t have admitted it to a living soul but if he had paused, he felt he would have stood there all morning trying to work up the courage to face her. He brought the brass knocker down hard and immediately a dog answered from within the house, barking ferociously. So she had a guard dog? That was good. One of the things which had kept him awake the last couple of nights was the remoteness of the Colonel’s place. He closed his eyes for an instant.
Constance’s
place. Admittedly there was a farm at the very end of the lane which finished at Tan Hills Wood, and the odd small cottage scattered about, but none close to Appleby Cottage.
When the door opened he realised he was holding his breath. She was wearing a deep blue dress and her hair was coiled at the back of her head, and her eyes opened wide at seeing him.
‘Matt.’ Her voice, like her eyes, was warm and welcoming. ‘What a nice surprise. Come in, please.’ She was holding the dog’s collar and as it growled, she added, ‘No, Jake. Friend,’ before looking at him and saying, ‘He’s fine, really, but he seems to be wary of men. He’s the Colonel’s old dog but I think between them dying and me coming he’s had a rough time fending for himself, poor thing.’