The Emerald Valley (68 page)

‘Then I'll tell you! You called on me on Saturday night when Dr Scott was visiting me. Now it has got back to me that you've been telling people you caught us behaving improperly. I should like to know what you mean by it, Ruby.'

‘Well, I …' Confronted by the fruits of her willing gossip, Ruby was at a loss for words. ‘It's not true, I didn't say that!' she blurted.

‘“Caught us at it”. Those were the words used to me.'

‘Oh, I didn't! I
never
!'

‘You must have said something, you're the only one who would.'

‘His car was outside. Anybody could draw conclusions.'

‘Not anybody.
You
, Ruby.'

‘But I didn't say
that.
You know how people twist things, they put words in your mouth and …'

‘I've got just one thing to say to you, Ruby. If you don't go back to the people you've talked to and tell them you blew the whole matter up out of all proportion, I shall have you up for scandal. And don't think I wouldn't, just because we're neighbours. Not that this is a very neighbourly thing to do, anyway.'

‘Well!' Ruby gasped. ‘I've certainly tried to be neighbourly – and this is all the thanks I get for it! I take it you won't want me to have the littl'uns any more, seeing what you think of me!'

Amy hesitated, cold reality driving a knife into her anger. It was so convenient, Ruby having the children …

‘Look, Ruby, I've had my say. I'm upset, I won't deny it – wouldn't you be upset with such rumours flying round Hillsbridge about you? Not only that, have you thought how serious this could be for Dr Scott if anyone believes what you've said? He's a good man and an excellent doctor, but if people thought – well, his career could be ruined.'

‘Well, all I can say is that he should have had more sense than to act the way he has,' Ruby said nastily.

‘Promise me you'll stop spreading the rumours and we'll forget the whole thing.'

‘Not likely! You've just said things to me you had no business saying. It's not my fault if you and Dr Scott want to mess about!'

‘For the last time …'

‘I won't say it outside any more because I've got no proof.' Ruby was red in the face now. ‘But you know and I know exactly what was going on when I came knocking at your door. So don't come the injured innocent with me, Amy Roberts. And I'll tell you something else – I'm fed up with seeing you act like Lady Muck. I've been pleased to help you out, but if you think that gives you the right to come round here telling me a thing or two, you've got another thing coming. All right?'

‘All right!' Amy was shaking again. ‘If that's the way you want it. But I meant what I said, Ruby – any more talk and you'll find yourself in court!'

‘And you'll find yourself bankrupt! Nobody's going to do business with a husband-stealer!' She slammed the door and Amy was left trembling with hurt and anger.

She simply could not believe that Ruby had said such terrible things to her. ‘Bankrupt!' ‘Nobody would do business with a husband-stealer'. And ‘Lady Muck'! Was that what Ruby thought of her? It was horrible – everyone seemed only too ready to turn against her, to think the worst.

All along the Rank the back doors were firmly shut now for the evening and Amy suddenly found herself thinking of the doors in the Rank at Greenslade Terrace. In memory it seemed that when she had been a child they were always ajar, the sun in summer evenings slanting in to make diametric patterns on faded linoleum, the warmth from the constantly burning coal fires creeping out in winter to greet you and envelop you in an aura of welcome. Even when the doors had been closed, as these now were, Amy had not felt excluded by them. She had known that the moment she knocked and peeped inside someone would greet her: ‘Amy! What are you doing here? Come on in, my love!'

But no longer. Standing there in the deserted yard, feeling totally alone as if antagonism, not warmth, now lurked behind the closed doors, she realised for the first time that not all the fruits of success are sweet.

I've done well for myself, Amy thought. And other people don't like it. Oh, they might be nice enough to my face, but what do they say about me behind my back? The things that Ruby, my
friend
Ruby, said to me just now? That's the only time I hear them said out loud – when I've upset somebody enough to get them really rattled. Otherwise I go on in blissful ignorance.

But oh, how pleased they must be to have something to say about me! How they must enjoy making the digs!

The thought was a frightening one, because suddenly Amy could see with what delight the story about herself and Oliver must have been passed from lip to lip. But as she thought about it, her emotions went full circle and her anger began again, searing yet healing.

It was pathetic, people like Ruby stoking up jealousy for sheer spite. They could do as well as she had if they put half the energy they expended on scandal-mongering into making something of themselves. And they certainly were not going to mar her success now.

With a characteristic lift of her chin, Amy turned and crossed the yard to her own house.

The last few months of 1928 were a difficult time for Amy – a time when problems mounted and she felt as if she were running constantly in thick, sticky treacle.

The confrontations with Eddie Roberts and Ruby Clarke had upset her more than she cared to admit, bringing home to her the gulf which was there ready and waiting to open between her and her own people, creating practical difficulties which had to be resolved by more confrontation.

Approached about having Maureen again until alternative arrangements could be made, Charlotte was understandably cool, though triumphant.

‘You see, Amy? You can never trust outsiders. And to think those children were in her care!'

‘I'm sure she never said or did anything to harm them,' Amy said.

‘You can't be sure of that. A woman who could make up such dreadful lies …'

‘It's nice to know you trust me at least,' Amy said drily.

‘Anyone who knows Oliver Scott would know there couldn't be any truth in it!' Charlotte declared. ‘He's a gentlemen. But you should have had more sense than to have him there, Amy. People will talk – you ought to have known that. And look at the trouble it's caused!'

Amy said nothing. Whilst asking a favour, she was in no position to utter the kind of sharp retort which came to her lips all too easily these days. And there was no doubt that she had stirred up a hornets'nest.

Grace was still in Wells, undergoing ‘treatment', while the town buzzed with speculation as to what that might mean. A suicide always caused a stir, giving the rest of the population an opportunity to enjoy a shiver of horror as they wallowed in the gruesome details; although Grace's attempt had been unsuccessful, the fact that she was both Hal's daughter and the doctor's wife more than made up for it.

‘Good thing somebody were on hand to fish her out, or those two little girls would be without a mother!' Walter Clements commented to the rest of his cronies gathered round the corner table in the Miners'Arms, and Stanley Bristow added, ‘Good thing she didn't jump under the Pines. Couldn't have changed her mind then, could she?'

There was a murmur of agreement and Reuben Tapper, one-time railway porter, nodded vigorously. Jumping beneath the wheels of the Pines Express which thundered through Hillsbridge twice daily was one of the most popular and spectacular methods selected by Hillsbridge suicides – and certainly, as Reuben could testify, one of the messiest.

In the Miners'Arms, as on street corners and doorsteps all over Hillsbridge, talk of the suicide attempt progressed naturally to the reasons behind it and in every case blame was heaped on Amy.

Oliver Scott was popular and highly respected; no one could imagine the doctor doing anything improper. But Amy had been the subject of gossip more than once and as a result she was condemned universally with scarcely a word spoken in her defence.

‘She always were a bit flighty,' Stanley Bristow said and Tommy Brixey, who had once fancied his chances with her before being put firmly in his place, added, ‘Hoity, too. Though much good it did her, marrying a foreigner.'

Again there was a murmur of agreement. Although Llew, had he lived, would now have resided in Hillsbridge for six years, he was still regarded as a foreigner – and by the same token, so was Eddie. Unless he could get himself adopted as an official Labour Party candidate, he would have an uphill straggle to get himself elected to the council here, which he was so anxious to achieve.

‘D'ust think't will go any further?' Walter Clements asked. As a former neighbour of Amy's, he felt a little awkward being a party to discussing her morals and preferred to steer the conversation onto a less personal level. ‘They do say as how a doctor can get right in the muck over this sort o'thing.'

Heads nodded sagely, but it was left to Stanley Bristow to say what they were all thinking.

‘It's no more than talk at the moment and they'd have their work cut out to get him for nothing but talk – unless Grace or Amy have their say, of course. And what good would that do either on'em? It's a damn shame! I can mind when Grace were just a girl, and she used to sing with our concert party. She could charm the birds off the trees, honest she could, and when I think she's come to this, well, I could break my heart. But if the doctor do get into trouble, I reckon we all ought to stand by'un. He's a good bloke, one in a million, and a lot of us have got cause to be grateful to'un. What d'you say?'

One by one they nodded:

‘We could do a lot worse than Dr Scott.'

‘Ah, we could – he were very good to my missus when she had thick bronchitis – and he didn't send his bill in all that quick, neither.'

‘He's all right. Amy Hall's a fast piece – bound to be. T'ain't right, a woman doing what she does.'

‘And there's summat funny about that boy she's got living there too, if you ask me. Do'ee think she'ad'un afore she were married?'

So the talk went on, stopping only when Jim Hall and Dolly's husband Victor dropped in for a pint. And it was not confined to the Miners'Arms, either. It spread through the town like the first trickle of floodwater, becoming murkier and deeper as it passed from mouth to mouth in the queue at the Co-op bacon counter, hummed along the row of men who squatted collier fashion against the wall on County Bridge, and, most daring of all, spiced up the slow minutes for those waiting their turn at the doctor's surgery.

Almost universally the story was the same. The doctor could not be held to blame; if there was anything in the story, then without a doubt it had come about because of Amy Hall. She was ‘a one' and always had been; she wore her skirts far too short for a woman her age, even if it was the fashion; she was on her own all day down at that yard of hers with just men for company. It wasn't right – no wonder she'd run into trouble now; the only surprising thing was that it hadn't happened long ago.

At first, Amy was unaware of the proportions the talk was reaching. She had other things on her mind. Business was slackening off and since nothing had changed in the running of Roberts Haulage, she could not understand why.

One morning when she went into the office, Herbie was waiting with yet another piece of unwelcome news.

‘Leech Gravel don't want us this week,' he told her bluntly. ‘They've just telephoned to say they've made other arrangements.'

Amy's face dropped. Leech Gravel was a small but regular hiring. ‘Why should they cancel?' she asked.

Herbie shook his heads. ‘They didn't say.'

‘Well, why didn't you ask?'

Again Herbie answered with a small shake of his head. Amy wondered briefly if he was keeping something back, but Herbie was a man of few words who was happiest simply getting on with his jobs in the yard. It was just like him to take the message and ask no questions.

When the second firm – a small timber merchant from Withydown – telephoned to say they would not require the Roberts lorry this week, Amy was unable to conceal her dismay. Joe Bray, the owner, was a friendly little man who usually did his business by coming into the office and chatting over a cup of coffee and a cigarette.

‘Forgive me asking, but why won't you need us this week, Joe?' Amy enquired. ‘Business is all right, is it?'

‘Yes, business is fine,' he murmured uncomfortably.

‘Then why … ?'

There was a long pause and Amy began to think they had been cut off. Then Joe said, half-defiantly, ‘We thought it was only fair to give that new transport firm over at Stack Norton a try.'

Amy felt the skin prick on the back of her neck.

‘Oh, haven't we been giving you satisfaction, then?'

‘It's not that. But it seems only right to let them have a week's work sometimes, seeing they're trying to get started.'

‘I see,' Amy said – but she did not. The other firm had been in operation for some months now and Joe had not felt the need to give them a week's work before. Why now?

But deep down a small unwelcome voice was suggesting a reason. Perhaps it was all to do with the gossip. She had been tarred as ‘no better than she should be' – a woman who got the respectable doctor into trouble and drove his wife to suicide – and people were not anxious to be involved with her. Was it Joe's wife, concerned about the business chats over coffee and cigarettes, who had laid down the law? Or was it Joe himself, a good chapel-going man with a highly developed set of morals, who had decided to transfer his business, temporarily at least? Whichever, it meant another job lost – the second in a week – and Amy was seriously worried. The business had been ticking over nicely, but she had not been so inundated with work that she could afford to lose regular customers in this way.