Emma rose brusquely to her feet. She had to
get out of there or she’d break down. ‘I’d best be off.’
Usually there were protests when she left, but this time Ann was the only one who seemed unhappy to see her leave.
As Emma placed Patricia in her pram in the hall, Polly managed to extract herself from Ann and followed behind. ‘Emma, please, I’m worried sick. You won’t change your mind, will you? You won’t tell your dad?’
‘No, Polly, I won’t say anything, but I think you need to get help.’
‘Oh, I will, Emma, I promise.’
Emma knew she would have to be content with that.
On the way home she decided she would tell Dick what had happened, but would keep her confrontation with Polly from Luke. She didn’t want him upset again, still nervous that he might carry out his threat to leave the area. It was bad enough that the girls might be leaving for Kent, without losing her brother too.
Tom leaned on the bar, staring down into his pint of beer. He might live in Balham now, but he still saw his mates and heard the rumours. He still couldn’t take them in, but according to the latest gossip, Horace Bell had buggered off and there was to be a new agent in the area collecting rents. He shook his head. Surely it couldn’t be true? Dick had told him that Emma had given birth, but had made no mention of Horace leaving the girl.
Tom frowned. Not only that, nowadays there was a strange atmosphere at home. Polly was skittish, a bundle of nerves, and he had no idea why. At first he’d thought it was because of the falling-out she’d had with Luke and the boy leaving home. Maybe she thought he’d do his nut about it. No, that couldn’t be it. The lad had been cheeky and Tom had sided with Polly, telling her that as far as he was concerned Luke could stay away. He was old enough to live with Dick now.
His sons were working the stall and he was still smarting about that. When Charlie had left it to Dick, Tom had seen it as a way to get off the bloody building sites. Dick was too young to take over the pitch, so he planned to sign up for it, running the stall with the boy working for him.
Tom swallowed a mouthful of beer, a scowl on his face as he swiped a hand across his mouth. He’d been well scuppered. Someone else had signed up for the pitch, and the bloke had told him in no uncertain terms that Dick was working for him. It was a lie, of course, but he couldn’t prove anything, and that bloody lot down the market must have been laughing at him behind his back.
His thoughts shifted again. When he went home, Polly would start again about the pub in Kent. At first he’d been keen–well, until he’d heard the latest rumour about Horace. If it
was
true, and the man had buggered off, had he left Emma that big house? Christ, it must be worth a fortune, and if he could persuade Emma to sell it, then sod a possible partnership of a pub in Kent! They could have a pub of their own.
He downed the last of his pint, slamming the glass on the bar. Well, there was only one way to find out, and so he set off to see Emma.
The evening was hot and muggy, but at last he
arrived at Emma’s house, and she opened the door, obviously surprised to see him.
‘Dad, what are you doing here?’
‘I thought I’d pop down to see my new grandchild.’
With reluctance, she stepped to one side. ‘All right, you’d better come in.’
Tom’s eyes flicked around as they went into Emma’s posh drawing room. ‘Is Horace in?’
‘Er…no. He…he’s out on business.’
‘But it’s after eight o’clock.’
‘He’s often late.’
‘So, the rumours ain’t true then?’
‘What rumours?’
‘There’s talk that Horace has left you.’
He saw the colour drain from Emma’s face. She lowered her head, but then with an audible sigh she admitted, ‘I should have known there’d be gossip. Yes, Horace has left me.’
‘Blimey, girl, this must be the shortest marriage in history! Why did he leave?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, but then her tone hardened. ‘Why are you here, Dad? You certainly haven’t come to see the baby.’
‘I came to see if you’re all right.’
Cold eyes met his. ‘Don’t give me that. What are you after?’
‘Well, that’s nice, ain’t it? I’m not after anything. It’s like I said, I came to see if you’re all right.’
‘I’m fine. If you must know I’m glad that Horace has gone.’
‘Really? Well, he must have left you sitting pretty then. You’ve got this place and no doubt a good few bob too.’
‘No, Dad, he’s left me with nothing. You seem to forget that Horace isn’t the rich man he pretended to be.’
‘Rubbish! I know he told you he was only an agent, but if you ask me you were daft to believe it. He’s rich, all right, and you should make sure you get your fair share.’
‘Look, even if what you say is true, which I doubt, how am I supposed to find Horace? He could be anywhere, and if he’s as well off as you claim, he’ll have made sure I can’t get my hands on his money.’
‘You could see a lawyer.’
‘With what, Dad? A lawyer would cost money. Money I haven’t got.’
‘There’s this place. You could sell it. In fact, I’ve been giving it some thought. You’d get a good price and we could buy a business, a pub for instance.’
‘So that’s it!’ Emma cried. ‘My God, you’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you? But you can forget it. The house isn’t mine, it’s in Horace’s name, and even if I could sell it, buying a pub is the last thing I’d do.’
‘There’s no need to shout. It was just a suggestion,
that’s all. Anyway, you must have some rights and I still think you should see a lawyer or something. Here, I’ve just had another thought. Did Horace say anything about my place?’
‘No, he didn’t, but if you have to start paying rent it wouldn’t be the end of the world.’
‘Leave it out! With a place like mine the rent wouldn’t be peanuts.’ Tom’s eyes flicked around the huge room, taking in the plush furniture, the drinks cabinet, the luxurious rugs. He brightened. ‘Sod the flat. You’ve got plenty of room; we can all move in here.’
‘There’s no way on earth I’d let you move in here!’
‘Why not? I’m your father.’
‘You dare to ask me why? You came here for one reason, one reason only, and that was because you thought I had money you could get your hands on.’ Emma shook her head in disgust. ‘Just get out, and don’t come back.’
‘Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your father, and you should show me some respect.’
‘Respect! You forced me into this marriage, and…and, worse, if it wasn’t for you my mother would still be alive.’
‘Why you…you…’ Tom growled. He moved forward, his hand raised to strike her.
Emma stepped back and snatched up the poker, which she brandished at him. ‘I said get out!’
Tom froze. It was as if his late wife was standing before him. The same face, the golden hair, the vivid blue eyes. Of course it wasn’t Myra, it was Emma, but the anger drained from his body. Unable to stand the vision and without another word, he turned on his heels, feeling sick to his stomach as he stomped from the house.
Tom walked home. He could have gone to the underground station and caught a train, but he was swamped with self-pity, his head low as he crossed Clapham Common. God, what was going on with his kids? First Dick had stolen the stall from under his feet, and now Emma had ruined any plans he had of running his own pub. All right, so she couldn’t sell the house, but you’d think she’d want them to live with her. After all, it was like a bloody palace!
Anger flared to replace self-pity. Well, sod them. Sod Dick, Luke and Emma. They would stew in their own bloody juices from now on. He’d cut them out of his life, and they’d be no loss. Tight-lipped, he thought about Horace Bell. The bastard! He’d promised a rent-free flat, but now an agent would be calling, demanding rent that he wasn’t prepared to pay. Well, sod him too.
By the time Tom arrived home, his mind was made up. Throwing open the door, he yelled, ‘Polly! Where are you?’
‘Blimey, Tom,’ she said, scuttling from the
kitchen. ‘Where have you been? Your dinner’s ruined.’
‘Never mind that. First thing in the morning, start packing. We’re going to Kent.’
As the door slammed behind her father, Emma slumped, the poker falling from her hand and landing with a thump on the floor. Tears came then, tears that she was unable to control since giving birth to Patricia. She knew she was an emotional wreck, but was powerless to do anything about it. She had to pull herself together, but one awful event seemed to follow another and she just couldn’t cope. She wanted to shut herself away from all of them, to be left in peace. Patricia needed her, needed a mother who wasn’t falling apart at the seams, and until she regained her self-control, she’d have to stay away from her family. The decision made, Emma felt a surge of relief. She fed Patricia, changed her, and then cradled the baby in her arms as she went upstairs. She wanted only to go to bed, to sleep, and to shut out the world.
It was five days later, and Emma hadn’t left the house. Depression overwhelmed her. She went through the motions, feeding and caring for Patricia, but cared nothing for her own appearance. Her nightclothes remained on all day, the curtains drawn against the outside world.
Someone had called, but she ignored the rapping on the door. It would be one of her family, wanting something from her that she just couldn’t give. Emotionally she was drained. Her hair was lank, her body unwashed, but she didn’t care, didn’t notice, and most of the day when the baby was asleep, she would doze too.
It was now seven in the evening and someone was knocking on the door again. Emma didn’t move, just wanting whoever it was to go away. At last the rapping stopped, quiet once again descending, but shortly after she heard another sound. Someone was coming in, footsteps crossing
the hall, and she sat up on the sofa, staring fearfully at the door.
‘Emma, thank Christ! We’ve been worried sick.’
Luke and Dick stood there, both looking anxious, but she felt only despondency. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? ‘How…how did you get in?’
‘We used the side door, and it’s a bit dodgy that you left it unlocked,’ Dick said, moving further into the room. ‘You look terrible. Are you all right?’
‘I’ve got a headache, that’s all.’
‘No, Em, there’s more to this than a headache. Christ, look at you! When was the last time you had a wash or combed your hair?’
Emma said nothing.
Luke moved forward now, his eyes dark with worry, but unlike Dick, he didn’t comment on her appearance, saying only, ‘Dad’s gone, Emma. He took that offer in Kent and they’ve all gone. We wouldn’t have known if Dick hadn’t called round to see the girls. Would you believe that Dad was going to leave without telling us?’
Emma tried to rally herself, attempted to take an interest, but instead, and unbidden, she found tears spurting from her eyes. She felt the seat dip beside her, an arm wrapping itself around her shoulder and Luke saying, ‘Don’t take on so, Em. I know you’ll miss the girls, but Dick said they were really excited about moving to the country.’
She felt strange, her head buzzing, and as darkness descended, the last thing she heard before passing out, was Luke’s frightened cry.
When Emma came to she found herself laid out on the sofa, her brothers looking down at her worriedly.
Dick perched himself beside her. ‘Emma, you fainted. Are you feeling all right?’
‘Yes,’ she said, but as she tried to sit up, her head was still swimming.
‘Luke, make Emma a cup of tea, and see that it’s strong.’
As soon as he left the room, Dick said, ‘Do you want me to find a doctor to have a look at you?’
‘No, no, I’m all right.’
‘Em, we’ve called before, but when you didn’t come to the door, we thought you were out. I ain’t being funny, love, but you stink to high heaven.’
‘I…I just wanted a bit of peace, that’s all.’
‘Leave it out, this ain’t like you. What’s going on?’
‘Please, Dick, I don’t feel like talking.’
He was quiet for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip, but then as Patricia stirred, he said, ‘Hold on, when I come to think about it, I can remember Mum acting like this once, just after she had Archie. I was about twelve at the time
and if I remember rightly Alice Moon took over. She told us not to worry, that some women get like it after having a baby.’
Yes, Emma remembered as well. Her mother had cried a lot too, slept a lot, her mood low. Maybe she was suffering with the same problem, but the thought didn’t comfort her. She closed her eyes, wanting only to sleep.
‘Come on, buck up,’ Dick said, but she ignored him.
She heard Luke returning to the room, the rattle of a cup in the saucer, and then whispered voices. Dick touched her arm and she opened her eyes. ‘When was the last time you had anything to eat, Em?’
‘I don’t know, this morning maybe,’ she said tiredly
‘Listen, love, Luke’s gonna stay with you for a while, just until you get on your feet.’
There was a time when Emma would have welcomed Luke with open arms but not now. All she wanted now was to go back to sleep. ‘No, please, there’s no need.’
‘There’s no point in arguing, Em. He’s staying, and that’s that.’
Emma wanted to protest again, but found her eyelids drooping. She closed her eyes instead, sinking back into the darkness.
* * *
It took a few weeks, but at last Emma took an interest in life again. Luke had been marvellous, trying to arouse her interest with snippets of information, the latest being that Princess Elizabeth had given birth to her second baby, this time a girl called Anne. With something in common with her favourite princess, she managed a smile.
Emma had to admit that Luke was marvellous with Patricia. Of course he insisted on calling her Tinker–Dick too–and somehow the name had stuck. Until now she hadn’t thought about the stall, or how Dick was coping, but when he called round one evening in late October, she asked him anxiously.
‘Oh, don’t worry. I took on a lad to help me out and he’s doing all right.’