The Back of Beyond (12 page)

They sat down for a while on one of the benches overlooking the wide expanse of calm sea, dotted here and there with homecoming trawlers making their slow way into the harbour, but one much larger ship made Lexie ask, curiously, ‘Why's that big one not moving?'

‘It'll be sitting at anchor waiting for the pilot to come and lead it in,' Ernie told her. ‘You see, there's all sorts of currents and things that captains from other places have to beware of.'

‘Where would that one have come from?'

‘It's definitely a foreigner because of the flag, but it's too far out for me to make out which country's it is.'

In another twenty minutes, they were treated to the spectacle of the tiny pilot boat shooting into sight from behind the harbour wall and then turning round to escort the visitor to its allocated berth. Having watched until both vessels were out of sight, Ernie said, ‘I think we should make tracks again. We don't want to miss the last bus.'

They walked smartly along to the Bathing Station where they would catch a tram into town, and the air having grown a little colder, he put his arm around her waist as they waited. ‘I've been thinking on buying a second-hand car,' he said. ‘It would be a lot handier than having to depend on public transport like this. What d'you think?'

‘It's not up to me. Can you afford it?'

‘Just about, but we could go anywhere and stay out all night if we wanted, too.'

She had nearly said he could stay
inside
all night with her, but she still didn't feel free enough to let him do what he wanted … if he wanted it. She would be better to wait to see what developed before making any rash commitments.

Alistair could see that Gwen wasn't happy in their new abode. Even after two months, she was missing her mother and her sisters. ‘I didn't realize how much work the children were,' she wailed one evening, while she was washing out the clothes their offspring had been wearing that day. ‘Mum or Marge or Peggy always saw to them if I was busy, but now I've got to do the cooking, the washing and ironing, make the beds and do all the cleaning, as well as look after the kids all day.'

Alistair pushed aside the thought that she was blaming him – she knew that they couldn't afford a mortgage like Dougal was paying – but he still felt a wave of indignation at the thought of her lack of effort. ‘You've been blooming lucky, you know,' he said, brusquely. ‘Not many young mothers have built-in nursemaids like you had at the hotel.'

Noticing her bottom lip trembling, he regretted his brutality. She was right – two infants must be an awful handful, and other mothers would have learned from looking after their first before a second came along, whereas Gwen had been thrown in at the deep end, so to speak. ‘I'm sorry, darling. It must be terrible for you on your own all day, but I have to work. I can't leave Manny in the lurch, and we need the money.'

‘I know it's not your fault, but I get so tired, and …'

‘Come here,' he said, gruffly, reaching out and taking her in his arms. He hated to see her crying, especially when he looked at the situation from her side. He was blaming her for not making an effort, but he was just as bad. If he'd really wanted to, he could have bought the house Rosie was now occupying. Paying the mortgage would have been a struggle, but they would have managed, somehow. But … it was too late now. ‘Let me finish the washing for you, sweetheart,' he murmured against her neck, ‘and you can go to bed. An early night should help.'

Left on his own, he dutifully scrubbed, then rinsed, all the little garments and spread them out on the pulley hanging from the scullery ceiling – the weather was too dodgy in October to chance leaving them outside all night – before tackling the napkins which were soaking in a pail. That was when he felt true sympathy for his wife. Fancy having to do this every day, maybe more than once, he thought, screwing up his nose. Wee David wasn't a year old yet, but he smelt like a blinking adult.

Before going home the following night, he made a detour to see Ivy, to tell her how worried he was about his wife, and as he had hoped she would, his former landlady volunteered to have the ‘little dears' for an afternoon every week. ‘More than one, if she wants,' Ivy had grinned, ‘for I could eat them, they're so adorable.'

‘We're not so desperate you need to do that,' Alistair laughed, ‘and you'd better not let Gwen know I've been talking to you. She's a bit touchy.'

Ivy gave his rear end a playful pat when he turned to leave. ‘I'll be the soul of tact, you know me.'

She did more than have the children for an afternoon a week. Working round to it gradually, she got Gwen to admit how tired she always felt, and how much of a struggle it was to get to Lee Green on her own with an infant, a toddler and a bag bulging with nappies for David and a change of clothes for both in case of ‘accidents'. This, Gwen explained tearfully, meant that she could only see her mother on Sundays, when Alistair was with her. Not letting the young woman suspect a thing, nor putting any pressure on her, Ivy arranged to accompany her there every Thursday and also to take the children off her hands for the whole of every Monday to let her get her weekly wash done and ironed, weather permitting.

‘And so peace reigns once more in the Ritchie household?' Manny queried, amiably.

‘Oh yes,' breathed Alistair. ‘Gwen's much brighter, and Ivy's tickled pink at having the brats. It's a shame she never had any of her own, she'd have made a good mother.'

‘That so often happens. My Anna was the same … also your dear sister-in-law,' Manny added, in case his employee thought he was lingering on his own trouble.

‘Dougal's awful disappointed that Marge hasn't fallen yet. He doesn't think she'll ever have any, and Rosie keeps asking when they'll hear the patter of tiny feet, so you can imagine tempers are a bit frayed there. As a matter of fact, he's speaking about joining the TA so he can have some peace. He says they train at weekends and have a week's camp in the summer, and he wants me to join, too, but … I can't leave Gwen.'

‘No, it is different for you,' Manny agreed. ‘He can go off with a free mind, knowing that his wife's mother and sister are next door if anything happens, or if she merely wants company. Still, if you did want to go, I am sure Ivy would be only too happy …'

‘I couldn't ask her to do any more, she's been so good to us already. I don't suppose she'd mind, but I don't want to take advantage of her.'

‘You are right, my boy.' Manny lifted his black homburg and settled it comfortably on his head. ‘I may not come back until afternoon sometime,' he said, as he opened the door. ‘Billy Ternent has asked me to have a look at some property he is thinking of buying.'

As he made his way to the bus stop, he pondered over what he had been told. He was always glad when Alistair confided in him; it took his mind off the worry which had been growing in his mind of late. No word had appeared in the newspapers, but it had begun to filter through by word of mouth that Adolf Hitler had been clearing the Jews out of Germany since he came to power, and so deep was his fixation against them, apparently, that there was every likelihood of him doing the same in Britain if he ever got the chance.

No! Manny scolded himself, he must stop fretting about something that may never happen, and think of a way to help poor little Gwen. It was only natural, never having been separated from them before, that she was missing her mother and sisters, as Alistair should have realized, but what could be done about it?

David had newly been bathed and changed when he filled his nappy, and Gwen felt quite irritated with him as she stripped him once again. ‘You do it on purpose!' she ranted. ‘It's the same every blinking day!'

‘Blinking day?' queried little Leila, watching the operation with interest.

Her mother dropped the offensive articles into the pail she'd made ready. ‘I meant it's a … bad day, darling.'

The little girl shook her head. ‘See sun! You pwomised.'

‘We
will
go out, when I get this brother of yours ready.'

‘David bad, Mummy?'

Gwen could feel her throat tightening in self-pity, her eyes prickling. ‘He can't help it, though, he's only a baby.' It had been different when Leila was a baby, she thought, miserably. At the least sign of discomfort from her daughter, either Peggy or Marge had hastened to comfort her, and change her if that was what was wrong. She looked at her tiny son now, her heart filling with love instead of the anger she had felt a moment before. Things were getting her down so much that she'd have to be careful not to lose her temper altogether and do him some harm. She'd read of mothers who killed their infants because they were so tired they couldn't cope with them.

She was throwing on her own coat – Leila having been told to rock the pram if the baby started crying – when the doorbell rang. ‘Manny!' she exclaimed anxiously, when she saw who it was. ‘Has something happened to Alistair?'

‘No, no, I am sorry to have alarmed you. I was on my way to one of the markets when I suddenly felt like coming to see you. But you were going out?'

‘I take the children for a walk every morning and do the housework when they're having their afternoon nap, but it doesn't matter. I'm so glad to see you. Won't you come in for a cup of tea?'

‘If you do not mind, may I accompany you on your outing? I was not looking forward to trailing round the stalls, but walking with a lovely young woman? That is something I have not done for many a long year.'

A flattered smile stole across Gwen's face. ‘I think you would have been a one for the girls when you were young, but I'll be glad of your company.'

As they negotiated their way through the morning shoppers, Manny drew Gwen out to talk about herself, about her life at the hotel, and she described it so well that he could picture the three sisters making beds, helping in the kitchen, waiting at tables with a smile and a few words for each of the businessmen.

‘You miss it, don't you?' he murmured.

‘I shouldn't, when I'm kept busy with these two, but it's not the same. I think it's the adult company I miss.'

‘Especially your mother and sisters, is that not so?'

‘Yes,' she admitted, ‘it's them I miss most. I miss having them to tell my troubles to, and I get so tired, sometimes, and I've nobody to speak to till Alistair comes home at nights. I do see Ivy Crocker twice a week, but she's more interested in the kids than me.'

During the past fifteen minutes, Manny had been turning an idea over in his mind, a suggestion which would benefit himself as much as Gwen, and her last words gave him the courage to voice it. ‘I hope you do not think that what I am about to say is in any way improper, but I would consider it a privilege to be allowed to repeat this morning with you on a weekly basis. I, too, often feel the need of a confidante, someone with whom I can discuss my little worries … not that I have many since Alistair took over the running of the shop.'

‘I'd love to have you with me once a week, Manny, but are you sure you want to? I hope it isn't because you're sorry for me?'

‘No, I want to, I assure you. I am an old man now, and many of the people with whom I come in contact do not have much time for me, but you have been so friendly, I can talk to you and not feel I am being a nuisance.'

‘I should hope so!' Gwen said. ‘But I've been doing most of the talking today.'

‘There will be other days, yes?'

‘Yes, of course, and if it happens to be raining on any of the days you come to see me, we can have our chat inside. How does that sound?'

‘Ideal, and shall we make it Wednesdays?'

When they returned to the house, he accepted her offer of a cheese sandwich and a cup of tea, and remained with her after the children had been settled upstairs for their nap. ‘I suppose Alistair has told you that I used to have a dream …?'

Gwen raised her eyebrows. ‘Used to have? Oh, Manny, you haven't given up on having an antique shop, have you?'

He didn't answer for a moment, then said, softly, ‘If I tell you, you must promise not to say anything to Alistair. I want it to be a surprise for him.'

‘I won't tell him.'

‘I am not really fit to be making a daily trek round the stalls and second-hand shops, and I have also decided that I am too old to start out on a new venture, but I have not forgotten my dream. I have …' He stopped to consider the wisdom of going on and came to the conclusion that it was not fair to expect the young woman to keep such momentous information a secret from her husband. ‘No, my dear, I shall leave it there. You will both have a pleasant surprise when the time comes.' He was relieved that she did not press him for details, yet he should have known she wouldn't. She was every bit as honourable as Alistair. They were a perfect match.

Gwen did tell her husband that Manny had called, and that he was making it a weekly occurrence, but she did not mention what else he had said, and although Alistair knew why the arrangement had been made, he said nothing about that, either.

For many months to come, therefore, Gwen's weeks were fairly social, what with seeing Ivy for about fifteen minutes every Monday morning and afternoon, when she collected the children for the day and brought them back, and all Thursdays, when they went to Lee Green. Then there were Sundays, when Alistair went with her to see her mother and sisters again as a family.

Wednesdays, of course, were for Manny, who gradually opened out and told her about his wife having to go out cleaning in the early days of their marriage until the pawnshop was making enough for them to live on, about his parents and his grandparents, who had originally come from Poland, about how honoured he felt to be accepted as part of her family, and she, in turn, told him about her father's army career, about her mother being in service at a farm on the outskirts of Aldershot, which is how she had met her husband.