Authors: Yelena Kopylova
I mean, how much she had. "
Lizzie walked towards the fireplace and, stretching out her arm, she gripped the mantel, saying, "All those years looking after her, pandering to her wants, running for prescriptions."
"Mam!" Peggy's voice was stiff.
"What you seem to forget is that it's on sixteen years since you left this house. And who has seen to the place since?"
"Who saw to her before? I was thirty-five then, girl. I had the both of them, and Len. Oh yes, and Len."
"Well, I've had the both of them, Mam, and Andrew. Oh yes, and Andrew. And a fight on my hands that you never experienced."
"I'm sorry." Lizzie now took a seat to the side of the fireplace, saying, "I feel so hurt. Can you understand that? She was my mother."
"Well, Mam, you always said you were never close. But I can tell you this: she and I became very close over the years. I learnt a lot about her and saw her side of why she took up illnesses as a comfort."
"Well, I'm glad for you. It certainly paid off."
"Oh, for God's sake, Mam!"
Again Lizzie said, "I'm sorry. Give me a cup of tea."
Peggy poured out the tea and handed it to her mother; then sitting beside her, she said quietly, "She left me the money for a purpose.
She . she wanted to provide me with something to be able to go off with Emma where he couldn't get at her. That was the sole purpose of her leaving it to me. "
"Well, well. But you needn't have waited for that, need you? You've had it in your hands for months now."
"As you say, I have. I saw my solicitor again last week."
"And yes, what did he say?"
"He said it was a pity I hadn't come to him before, when the evidence was there that he was living with this woman, because now the
bungalow's been sold
and she's disappeared. Also, it is likely that although I will get custody of my daughter, he will also be given leave to see her every week, and likely for a longer period than he sees her now. And there's another thing. I had an ultimatum from Great-gran:
if I take up proceedings for a divorce, then I go out of here, but dear Andrew stays. "
"Never! She wouldn't."
"Oh yes, she would. Nothing that her bright boy can do is wrong. It's all put down to nature."
"What's puzzling Henry," said Lizzie now, 'is where he got the money to buy that bungalow? It was in her name, too, and being so, she's likely claimed the lot. If she was wise she did, anyway. But where did he get the money from? Henry's been going through the old ledgers but cannot find any sign of a fiddle. Cash or cheques there, they are all duplicated. And of course, as I've told you, it would take some fiddle to get past Gran's lynx's eyes. She might be soft in the head about everything else, but never about money. No, it's a mystery. But as Henry says, he's got the money from somewhere and he means to find out where. By the way, where's Emma? I haven't seen her. "
"She's out playing tennis."
"On a day like this? It's enough to freeze you."
"Oh, she'd still play. She plays two or three times a week. And I'm glad; it gets her out and she enjoys it.
And she's holding her own these days. She's working better at school, too. Her last report was quite good;
at least, compared with the previous ones. I think I can date the change in her since she saw that new doctor. I didn't have much faith in him when I first spoke to him, but apparently he told her to stand on her own two feet. And she's done that. "
"How's Andrew been?"
"Oh, just the same. It's his daughter and she'll always be his daughter, and God Almighty Himself won't dare put a spoke in between them, or else. He's attending the parents' meetings at school now. I don't go when he's there; I just couldn't bear it. The smarminess of him. He came one night when he was supposed to be elsewhere, and there he was, smiling and chatting all round. And Mrs. Rogers came up to me and said how wonderful it must be to have a husband who takes an interest in his family; her Clan doesn't know he's got a family and cares less. I nearly said, " I'll swap places with you anytime, Mrs.
Rogers, and gladly. "
"Well' Lizzie rose " I must be off. By the way, do you hear anything from his people these days? It must be a year since she was this way.
"
"Yes, it is a year; about this time. And look at the reception he gave her. My dear Mr. Andrew Jones has no use for the Joneses of
Doncaster.
His father hasn't been here for years. The last time he came,
they had a row and the father called him a bloody upstart. He was a little tight at the time, the father, and it upset dear Andrew. As if he himself couldn't take it. He swills it down at times; of course, on the quiet, after Great-gran's safely tucked up in bed. Oh' Peggy screwed up her face 'there are times when I want to spit on him. But anyway' she nodded her head briskly now 'it can't last for ever.
Time's running short for him. She'll be sixteen next month. Do you know what, Mam? " She leant towards Lizzie now.
"I do wish she would meet some nice fellow and run off with him. Yes, I do."
"And land up in the same condition as you did? Be quiet!"
"Yes, but I wouldn't force her to marry him in order to keep my respectability."
Lizzie paused on the step and looked at her daughter, and there was a sad note in her voice as she said, "You've changed, girl. Oh, how you've changed."
"Well, I've been brought up in a good school these last few years, don't you think? But go on, go on. Drive carefully; the road's
slippy.
It'll soon be dark. "
She watched her mother get into the car, but she remained standing by the open door until Lizzie had turned the car and then disappeared down the drive. And after closing the door, she still stood and repeated to herself, "Land up in the same way as you did." Did she really wish her daughter to run off?
Yes, she did, but not just to live with someone, as was the vogue these days; she would wish her to marry some nice boy. No; not a boy, a man, one who would be able to stand up to her father and say, "It's done, she's mine."
"That will be our last game until the Spring; the courts close this week, both of them. The hard is too slippery, and there's hardly a blade of grass left on this one."
Richard Langton stood on the path outside the netting that surrounded the tennis court. He did not look at the girl by his side, who was almost as tall as himself; but he went on talking as she tapped her racquet against the netting.
"How long is it since I first saw you in the surgery? Five months?"
"Nearly six," said Emma quietly. She, too, was looking through the netting on to the court.
"I'm glad I'm not your doctor."
"Why?"
"Because what I'm about to say would then be very much out of place and I could lose my practice."
Emma didn't answer, but she put her hand up and pulled her scarf tightly around her throat as if it would stop the throbbing that was coming up from between her ribs and aiming to choke her.
"I'm twenty-six, Emma; you're not even sixteen until next month. I'm ten years older than you. That's the first obstacle. The second is, I have a career before me. I had no intention of marrying early when I came to this town. In fact, I was only going to stay a couple of years and move on, but... but I met you and I knew right from the beginning what was going to happen to me; and it's grown over these months during our supposedly accidental meetings here. Now Emma, I know my own mind, but you're so young and you don't."
"I do. I do." She had turned to him now and they were staring at each other. The words had rushed out, but they were vibrant with feeling and certainty as she said, "I, too, knew from the first. I'm not sixteen yet, as you say. But that's in years ... otherwise I'm
eighteen, twenty. I ... I never seem to have been young, never had the chance. I've been tied to older people, my father ... riveted to him.
My mother was married when she was sixteen."
He took hold of her hands now and his voice was gentle as he said,
"Yes, but by all accounts she's paid for it since with a man like your father."
"But you're not like my father. You're ... you're like no-one I've ever met or would hope to meet."
"Oh, Emma, my dear, dear Emma. I want to take you in my arms and kiss you and-He looked to the side to where two people were approaching; then dropping her hands, he said on a laugh, "I've only to be seen doing that in public, even holding your hands, and the place would be set on fire. Now, Emma, listen, I'm going to ask you a question. Will you, when you're seventeen, marry me?"
Emma closed her eyes but for the moment she couldn't answer for the throbbing in her throat. Then on a gasp, she said, "I'd marry you tomorrow."
"And I you, my dear Emma, and I you. But that's impossible. What kind of a reception would I get if I were to go to your mother now? I wouldn't ask your father, but your mother would, I'm sure, be up in arms. Anyway, let us arrange it like this:
we'll keep it quiet until the beginning of the year, and then, if you haven't changed your mind' he leant his head towards her, a soft smile on his face "I will ask your mother if we can become engaged, and just before you're seventeen or just after, we'll be married."
Emma's eyes were wide and moist. She gazed at him in silence until he said, "You're very beautiful, you know, and you'll grow more beautiful with the years."
"I love you. I love you, Richard. Do you know that's the first time I've said your name? You've always called me Emma."
"Well, don't in future call me Richard. I'm known as Ricky."
She smiled softly, saying now, "I like that ... Ricky; it suits you."
Richard Langton stared at the young girl before him. He had never been able to take in the fact that she was a fifteen-year-old girl. Right from the beginning she had never talked like a fifteen-year-old girl.
As she said, she could be twenty. He knew what Doctor Rice would say when he told him: "You must be mad." In his delicate fashion he would likely add, "If you're so much in need of it, live with somebody.
There are plenty available. They've been tripping over you ever since you came here. "
Yes, it was true he need not have wanted for female companionship over the past months. But the only one he had found himself wanting to see was this girl. He had tried, oh yes, he had tried to put the feeling in its place when he first recognised it. But it had become like a hunger: his whole being seemed empty when he was out of her presence.
How often, in the beginning, had he stood where he was standing now and watched her play? At least half a dozen times. Then one day, just as if he had come upon her accidentally, he had said, "You play very well.
What about taking me on sometime?" And so it had started; and now it had come to a head.
"How are we going to manage ... I mean, to meet?" he said.
"You couldn't risk going to the theatre with me, not for a while anyway.
But look,
the park doesn't close until six. Now, should you be coming in the west side' he pointed 'that's a very quiet end; let's say around half past five on a Tues day or Thursday. I don't take surgery those
nights. Well, we might just happen to bump into each other, mightn't we? Then what about a Saturday? What do you do on a Saturday
afternoon? "
"The senior girls play badminton; others play hockey or net ball
"Well, do you think you could skip a Saturday and I could pick you up somewhere, then we could take a run out into the country, across into Northumberland, beyond Hexham way; it's wild and wonderful up there.
I'm off duty every third week. Anyway, we'll arrange it. Yes' he leant towards her 'we'll arrange it, my dear. We must. Now you've got to go, and I've got to go . Are you happy? "
"I'm ... I'm afraid to say how I feel in case it disappears. I can't put a name to the feeling I have for you. If you say it's happiness, then it's happiness. I only know I'm afraid when I leave you; when you are out of sight, I feel lost, lonely."
This wasn't an answer that a fifteen-year-old girl would give, it was a woman's reply. Quickly he glanced up and down the path. There was no-one in sight. In an instant she was in his arms and he had kissed her, one short, hard kiss, and had pushed her from him, saying, "Go on. If you don't go this minute I'll go straight home with you, and that mustn't happen yet. Go on."
She backed three steps from him. There was no smile on her face but her eyes were large and glistening. Then. acting like a
fifteen-year-old girl now, she turned and ran along the path, around the ornamental clock, and kept running until she reached the east gate of the park. Only then did she walk . "You all right? Have you got a cold?"
"No, no, I haven't got a cold, Mam."
"Your face is red."
"There's a frost coming up."
"Where've you been?"
"Well, look at my racquet, Mam; I've been playing tennis."
Peggy turned away, asking now, "Who do you play with, usually?"
"Oh, Pamela Bright. Sometimes a foursome. I like singles best."
It was no lie, for her mother hadn't specifically said today, she had said 'usually'.
"You'd better come and have your tea. Your gran's been; she was disappointed at not seeing you."
"Well, she doesn't stay long, does she?"
"What are you going to do tonight?"
312.
"I've got homework and then I must practise I suppose. My piano lesson is on Monday, and I've hardly touched it this week."
"You're right there; it's a waste of money."
"I can easily give it up."
"You're not giving it up. Five years you've been at it now; you should be a concert pianist, and you would be if you had practised."
Emma had mounted the first step of the stairs and she was unwinding her scarf when she turned and looked down on her mother, saying, "I would have been many things if I had been brought up in peace."
Peggy was speechless for a moment. And then almost rushing to the foot of the stairs, she hissed, "Are you blaming me?"
But Emma didn't answer, and Peggy turned away, saying to herself.