‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Mavis put on dark red lipstick with angry little stabs. ‘It’s quite impracticable for Chris and Amy to move out. How that girl would manage to run a house on her own, I don’t care to think. She can’t do anything unless I explain to her, in words of one syllable, how to carry out the simplest domestic chore. She’s certainly not capable of looking after a husband single-handed, let alone a baby.’
Thomas glowered at his wife. ‘I reckon that’s for Chris to decide, not you. You can’t go interfering in his business like this, it’s not your place.’
Twin spots of colour showed high on her cheeks as Mavis headed for the door, her voice as sharp as a razor blade. ‘Well, it’s done now. Your friend, the landlord, told me he had another prospective tenant lined up, and a good thing too.’ She flounced off but then bethought herself and was back in a flash for one last parting shot.
‘And I’ll thank you to remove those mucky socks.’ Whereupon she left the house, closing the door very carefully behind her so that she didn’t chip the paintwork.
Thomas missed the end of the football results as he comprehensively listed every swear word he could think of. He’d never been in the army, being too young for the first war and too old for the second, but there were some suitable words in his vocabulary nonetheless, of which Mavis was not aware. He used every one of them now.
Drat the woman! Why did she always have to poke her nose in and interfere?
Mavis spotted her daughter-in-law out in the street and took great pleasure in informing her too that the landlord had changed his mind and let the house to someone else.
‘What?’ Amy was shocked and deeply upset by this unexpected news. Her dream of a happy life with her darling Chris shredded in an instant as she contemplated months, years perhaps, of further intimidation at Mavis’s hand. ‘When did you learn this? And why didn’t anyone
tell
me?’
‘I’m telling you now,’ Mavis tartly informed her. ‘It’s for the best, Amy, so please don’t make a fuss.’ And turning on her heel, she beat a hasty retreat before further questions could be asked.
Amy was distraught. It had taken months to find this house, miserable though it might be. What hope could they possibly have of finding another before the baby was born? And the thought of living in that cramped little bedroom with a small baby filled her with dismay. She could see it all quite clearly. Mavis would complain if it kept her awake by crying; she would object to nappies filling her clothes line; to having baby equipment litter her lovely sitting room. Nothing would be quite right. And Amy and Chris would have not one scrap of privacy in which to enjoy their child.
Chris was equally upset, and later that evening, having packed a distressed Amy off to bed, railed at his mother, demanding to know if she’d had a hand in the man’s decision.
Mavis robustly denied this, offering a lengthy explanation about how she’d run into their prospective landlord quite by chance, and he’d passed on the unwelcome message.
‘It was all a mistake. Your father got it wrong, as usual. The man had forgotten that he’d already agreed to let the house to someone else. Never mind, you’re perfectly comfortable here, and quite right too that you should stay in your own home with the baby due in just a few weeks.’
Chris was unconvinced by his mother’s explanation. He always knew when she wasn’t telling him the complete truth. She could never quite look him in the eye. His father sat tight-lipped throughout her long-winded tale, a look on his face which revealed he could say more, had he a mind to.
‘If you’ve influenced this man in any way, Mother, I won’t be responsible for my actions.’
Mavis gave a trilling little laugh. ‘Dear me, how very dramatic. You should be grateful you have such a loving home, unlike some people I could mention.’
‘If that’s a dig at Amy, then you’re quite wrong. Big Molly absolutely adores her, for all she was as much against our marriage as you were at the start. The Poulsons have a very happy home, as a matter of fact.’
‘Utterly chaotic!’ Mavis said, with a curl to her lip.
‘Chaotic or not, I’m sure she’d welcome her daughter home in time for the birth of her first grandchild, if asked.’
This was by no means a part of Mavis’s plan. She’d assumed her son would bend to her wishes, as he had always done when he was younger. Nothing had been quite the same though, ever since he’d taken up with this Poulson girl.
‘I really don’t think that would be wise,’ Mavis began. ‘That house isn’t even
clean
, not at all a fit place to bring a child into.’
Thomas gave a low growl at the back of his throat. ‘That’s enough Mavis. You go too far. Whatever vendetta we might personally have against the Poulson family, or the fact they are untidy, noisy, messy people, you have to admit that Big Molly’s kitchen is as bright as a new pin. She must clean it half a dozen times a day at least. She made pies in it all through the war, and for years after, without managing to kill off a single soul with food poisoning.’
‘By a miracle.’
‘In any case we’re not talking about the Poulson’s here, we’re talking about our Chris, and it’s time he set up on his own.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Mavis said with a sweet smile. ‘He’s stopping at home.’
Days later Thomas came to his son. ‘Don’t worry, lad, I’ve had another word with my friend Jim, your future landlord. There was a bit of a mix-up about letting the house but I’ve sorted it all out,
and
paid a month’s rent in advance. We can set about cleaning it up first thing in t’morning if you’ve a mind.’
‘Well, really,’ said Mavis, cheeks flushing bright pink. ‘When did all this happen? And why didn’t you tell
me
you’d spoken to the landlord?’
‘I’m telling you now,’ Thomas said, his face dead-pan. ‘Aren’t you pleased? It’s good news for our Chris, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ Chris said, pumping his father’s hand in heartfelt relief and gratitude. ‘Amy will be pleased as punch.’
‘Of course she will, poor dear,’ Mavis agreed, through gritted teeth.
Chapter Twenty
‘He’s here again, Gina. He comes every day, and it’s you he wants to see.’
‘Well, I don’t want to see him.’
Carlotta put her hands to her mouth to smother a little sob. How could life play such cruel tricks? She’d changed from being fervently opposed to Luc Fabriani to finding herself almost pitying the boy. You could argue that the problem was of his own making, so why did she let his evident misery trouble her?
Because of Gina. It was her daughter’s plight which broke her heart.
This wasn’t what she’d planned for either of her eldest daughters. Her hopes for Gina had admittedly faded years ago when she’d been struck down with the polio, as so many other children had been in the early fifties. Carlotta had decided that the poor girl must be protected and kept at home, for her own good. Now she wondered if perhaps she might have made a mistake. If she hadn’t kept her home from that silly dance, then this might never have happened.
Carlotta wrung her hands together in utter despair. What was a mother to do? How could you tell what was best for your child? Oh, but she’d fully expected Carmina to find herself a man of stature and importance in the community. Her beauty alone surely merited that.
Not that Carmina had ever been an easy child, forever creating problems both at home and with her teachers. The girl was far too arrogant for her own good. Carmina had hated school and refused to pay proper attention to her lessons, being far more interested in chatting up the boys. Unlike Gina who had railed at the fact she was missing so much school-work through ill heath, and Antonia who always had her head in a book, Carmina wasn’t the least bit interested in learning, or even in cookery and needlework. It had taken her two whole years to make a cookery apron.
She would often be late home, having been kept in on detention. Eventually the teacher would come knocking at their door to complain about their daughter’s rudeness, or wild behaviour. She’d ask why none of the letters she’d sent home requesting they call in to discuss Carmina’s problems, had received a response.
Carlotta would shrug, pretending not to understand when really she guessed that Carmina had probably thrown them all away.
The girl had not passed her eleven plus and had left school at the earliest opportunity, the moment she turned fifteen. This had upset Papa as he believed education to be important,
Their last remaining hope for Carmina’s salvation had been for her to make a good marriage. And now look what had happened. Perhaps Papa had been somewhat prejudiced against the Fabrianis, as they were being entirely supportive over this, but in her heart Carlotta knew that this marriage was wrong. She knew her own daughter too well, that the poor boy hadn’t stood a chance against her feminine whiles and scheming ways. Carmina had filled his head with lies over her sister, and, with the lust of youth, he’d been putty in her clever little hands.
And broken Gina’s heart as a result.
Luc did not love Carmina. He loved Gina. That was clear enough to her, if not to the girl herself.
Carlotta groaned. Daughters, what problems they created. ‘Luc says he needs to explain something to you.’
‘I have heard all his explanations,’ Gina said, not lifting her eyes from the book she was supposedly reading, although she hadn’t turned a page in a good half hour, by Carlotta’s reckoning.
‘Sometimes explanations are difficult. Things happen between a man and a woman, and men are so
weak
.’ Carlotta spread her hands in a helpless gesture. ‘Look at your sister. Could any man resist her?’
Gina did now raise her eyes. They had dark bruises beneath each, and the coldness in them jolted her mother’s heart. ‘Quite! Would you really wish me to be involved with a man who cannot keep his hands off my beautiful sister?’
‘
Momma Mia
, that is not what I meant, oh my darling girl.’
Carlotta embarked on a string of rapid Italian and Gina leapt to her feet to avoid being swept up into her mother’s suffocating embrace. ‘It’s all right. I can cope, so long as people don’t feel sorry for me all the time.’ And she limped swiftly from the room before her defences crumbled away entirely.
From her bedroom window Gina watched as Luc walked away, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. He looked so utterly dejected and miserable she ached to run after him. She almost felt sorry for him. To be compelled to marry her volatile, selfish sister was not a comfortable prospect for any young man.
When he reached Lizzie Pringle’s Chocolate Cabin, he half turned to look up at her window and Gina stepped quickly back behind the bedroom curtains, rather as she had done on the fateful day when she hadn’t gone to the dance and he’d betrayed her. If only she’d slipped out to speak to him then, had somehow found the courage to challenge him about the lies Carmina had told about him. If only she’d explained that she did indeed care and desperately wanted to be with him.
Instead she’d hesitated and foolishly trusted Carmina to deliver her letter, afraid of upsetting their parents. Although that hadn’t been her only reason.
Gina knew she’d been filled with insecurities and fear, half believing the poisonous words her sister had poured into her ear. After all, why would he want to take her, a person with a handicap, to a dance? What handsome young man would want to be seen out with a girl with a limp? Doubts had assailed her, her inferiority complex coming to the fore. Gina had believed Carmina must be right when she’d said that she really didn’t have the experience of life or men to fully appreciate how he was using her. Rightly or wrongly, these concerns had made her reluctant to defy her parents, and she’d lost him as a result.
Now, as Luc finally disappeared from view, Gina felt restless, quite unable to tolerate staying in the house a moment longer. She reached for her coat and hobbled down the stairs then slipped out to find Amy, not even telling Momma where she was going. Gina felt desperate for someone more her own age to talk to, someone who wouldn’t preach or lecture, or regard her with sad, pitying eyes.
Carmina, working on the ice cream cart, had been watching Luc for some time. She’d made it her business to follow him everywhere and keep track of what he was up to. Today, she’d spotted him talking to her mother, noted how he gazed up at her sister’s bedroom window. Then as he crossed the street she begged Allessandro, who happened to be around, to take over serving for ten minutes, claiming she needed a break. He complained, as he always did, but she was already rushing after Luc.
She fell into step beside him, slipped her arm into his as if she had every right to do so.
‘Hiya, how are you on this lovely sunny day?’
Much to her irritation, he shook her off. ‘This isn’t going to work,’ Luc growled.
‘What isn’t?’
‘This stupid plan of yours. Whatever little scheme you’ve got bubbling away in that clever head of yours is a complete waste of time. How can it when you and I both know the truth. We didn’t have sex and you aren’t pregnant.’
Carmina chuckled. ‘I think we’ll be married long before that can be proved.’
‘You’d only regret it. You’d hate being married to me. It wouldn’t work.’