Wish Me Luck (47 page)

‘Ooh-er,’ Robbie said imagining the severe punishment he might have incurred.

‘He didn’t care. He wanted to be with me.’

‘Did you find your dad? Pops?’

‘Oh yes, we found him all right.’ Meg’s voice was suddenly hard as she relived that dreadful day. ‘We went to the racecourse. He was so good with horses that Farmer Smallwood sometimes took Dad with him when he went to the races. And then we saw him, walking along, bold as you like, with his arm around Alice Smallwood.’

Robbie blinked. ‘His arm? Alice Smallwood?’

Meg nodded and now there was no hiding the bitterness in her tone. ‘My father had been having an affair with the daughter of his – of our – employers. They had found out and turned him and all his family out because of it. So, it wasn’t my fault as I had feared. It was his.’

‘Pops? I can’t believe it.’

Meg raised a smile. ‘Oh, Pops wasn’t always the frail old man you see now.’

‘Well, no. When he first came to live with us he was still – well – quite sprightly.’

‘When he was younger, he was a fine figure of a man, I have to admit.’

There was a long silence before Robbie asked gently, ‘So – what happened then?’

‘I went back to the workhouse, but from that moment on I cut him out of my life and vowed I’d never forgive him. It was up to me to take care of my mother. I went out into the town to seek work and I found it. With poor Percy Rodwell in his tailor’s shop.’

‘Why do you say “poor” Percy Rodwell?’

Meg sighed. ‘He was a lovely man. A kind and generous man and I . . . I seduced him.’

‘Oh, Ma! Whatever next?’ Robbie began to laugh, but seeing his mother’s serious face, he stopped. ‘Mind you,’ he added. ‘You’re still a stunner, so I expect the poor bloke hadn’t got a chance.’

For a brief moment Meg’s eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘He hadn’t.’

She explained about his long-standing engagement with the sour-faced Miss Finch and how, when Percy jilted her to marry Meg, he found himself in court on a charge of breach of promise. ‘Poor Percy,’ she murmured. ‘He really didn’t deserve all the trouble I brought to his door.’

‘What happened to your mother and to your little brother?’

‘Bobbie fell ill soon after I’d found out about my father.’

Robbie was intrigued by the way Meg kept referring to the man he knew affectionately as ‘Pops’ as ‘my father’. It was as if she, too, couldn’t think of them now as one and the same person.

‘And he died. D’you know?’ she said, the sadness still in her tone even after all the years. ‘We buried little Bobbie on my sixteenth birthday.’

‘And . . . and your mother?’

Meg’s mouth hardened even more. ‘She became Isaac Pendleton’s mistress. I disapproved and refused to see her ever again. Jake tried to persuade me to go to see her. In the end I did, but I was told she had no wish to see me. I think it was a lie – in fact, I know it was now. I did go, truly I did.’ She met his gaze, pleading with him to believe her. He gave her hands another little squeeze. ‘But she fell ill and died before . . . before I could make it up with her.’

‘So why did you think all this was so very dreadful, Ma? I mean, I know it’s a shame you didn’t make it up with your mother, but you were young and . . .’

‘I haven’t finished yet.’

‘Ah.’

‘I married Percy and the following year Louisa and Philip were married. Then the war came. Jake volunteered in 1916 and he married Betsy before he went. Then Philip went too. They were lucky – they both came back, but then we got that dreadful epidemic of influenza. Percy caught it.’ She bit her lip. ‘And I called Philip – Dr Collins. I . . . I’d always known he . . . he was attracted to me and . . . and I was lonely. Percy was ill – dying – and I . . . I mean we—’

‘You had an affair with Dr Collins?’ Robbie said gently, without any note of censure in his tone.

Meg nodded and tears filled her eyes. ‘It was wicked of me. I . . . I still felt resentment against Louisa for believing I could have stolen her watch. You see? I never forgave anyone. And yet I did worse things myself than ever they’d done. Far worse.’

‘How long did the affair go on?’

‘Not long. When Percy died, Philip had an attack of conscience. It finished, but by then, of course, you’d been conceived.’

Robbie raised her hands to his lips and kissed them gently. ‘So – Dr Philip Collins is my natural father?’

‘Yes,’ Meg whispered. ‘But I want you to believe me, Robbie, that whilst I do regret so many of the things I did, I do not regret having you. Not for one moment. And if I hadn’t had the affair, I wouldn’t have had you. But it wasn’t really until after you were born that I changed.’

Swiftly she recounted what Jake had already told Fleur about Miss Finch and her twisted belief that she had a right to Meg’s baby boy. ‘Angry and disgusted though Jake was with me – oh, he knew all about me. There was no hiding the truth from Jake – he still came to my rescue when I needed him. I suppose,’ she ended reflectively, ‘that’s why Betsy has hated me all these years. From what Fleur says, Betsy believed that Jake still loves me.’

‘Maybe he does, Ma,’ Robbie said softly. There was a long silence between them until Robbie said at last, ‘And what about – my father? Does he know that I’m his son? Has he always known?’

Meg nodded. ‘He came to see me when he heard you’d been posted missing. He . . . he said that if . . . if a miracle happened and you came back that he wanted to meet you. Get to know you.’

‘Did he indeed? And what would his wife say to that? Does
she
know, d’you think?’

‘Yes. She does now. Perhaps – perhaps she’s always suspected, but now she knows for certain. You . . . you’re so like he used to be as a young man. Anyone knowing him then and seeing you now . . .’

‘So
that’s
why she looked so startled that day I met her in the cafe with Fleur. I thought she was going to pass out.’

‘It must have been a shock for her. Specially when she found out just who you were.’

Again there was a long silence between them, before she asked tentatively, ‘Do . . . do you want to meet him?’

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Oh, it’s not up to me. Not any more.’

‘But will it cause you pain? I wouldn’t want that, darling Ma.’

She looked down into his upturned face, his handsome, open, loving face, and tears filled her eyes. ‘You . . . you don’t hate me, then?’

‘Oh, Ma!’ Again he kissed her fingers. ‘How could you even think such a thing?’

‘I . . . I thought you might be disgusted. I . . . I wasn’t a very nice person back then, Robbie.’

‘You had a tough time.’ He laughed gently. ‘Because of that old rogue up there. Who’d have thought old Pops could do such a thing? The old rascal, him.’

Suddenly, Meg was frightened. She clung to Robbie. ‘Oh, you won’t say anything to him. Oh, please, Robbie, don’t—’

‘Of course I won’t. If you can forgive him, then I certainly can.’

‘And . . . and you forgive me?’

‘There’s nothing for me to forgive where you’re concerned. I’m still me, whoever my father is.’ He paused and cocked his head on one side. ‘Did you love him very much, Ma?’

Meg bit her lip. ‘That . . . that’s the worst part. I don’t think I loved him at all. I was just lonely and . . . and he was handsome and besotted with me.’ She looked him straight in the eyes then, meeting his gaze as she said solemnly, ‘There’s only one man I’ve ever truly loved, but I was too blind, too ambitious and too selfish to see it. And I’ve spent the rest of my life regretting that – through my own stupidity – I lost him.’

Slowly, Robbie nodded. ‘You’re talking about Fleur’s dad, aren’t you?’

Meg nodded and whispered, ‘Yes. Jake was the only man I’ve ever really loved. And – once upon a time – I know he did love me. But I lost him. I lost my beloved Jake.’

Fleur knocked on the door of the terraced house and then waited for what seemed an age. At last, thinking they must be out, she turned away, disappointed. But she had only taken a few steps when the door opened and Robbie stood there.

‘Sorry, it takes me a while to get to the door. Fleur, darling, how is he?’

‘Oh, Robbie!’ She rushed to him and was enfolded in his strong arms. He held her tightly, believing the worst had happened.

‘Darling, I’m so sorry,’ he murmured against her hair.

‘No, no, it’s not that,’ she said, her voice muffled against him. She pulled back a little to say, ‘He’s all right. Well, he isn’t – what I mean is, he’s still alive.’

There was puzzlement in Robbie’s eyes and she knew exactly what he must be thinking: then why aren’t you with him?

‘I’ve come for your mother,’ Fleur was babbling in her anxiety. ‘He’s asking for her.’

‘Asking for my mother?’ Robbie was startled.

‘Yes – yes. She will come, won’t she? Is she here?’

‘Oh yes, she’s here, but as for coming to the hospital—’

Fleur’s eyes widened. ‘She won’t refuse to come, will she? Oh, she can’t. She must come. It might help him. It
will
help him. I know it will.’

‘It’s not that, Fleur. But she . . . she’s not well herself. Come in and see for yourself. She’s just sat by the fire, not moving. She’s been like that ever since yesterday.’

He drew her into the front room and closed the door. They did not move further into the house, but stood just inside the door whilst Robbie whispered, ‘We had a long talk the night before last. She told me everything. All about what your dad told you.’

Fleur nodded. ‘I’m glad you know. It wasn’t my place to tell you but I hated having a secret from you. You do understand that, don’t you, Robbie?’

‘Of course.’ He ran his hand distractedly through his hair as if, at this precise moment, that was the least of his worries. ‘But ever since then, she’s just sat there. She’s not even been to bed for two nights. She’s not eating or even drinking. I’m at my wits’ end . . .’

‘Let me see her.’ Fleur pushed past him and almost ran through the front room and into the back part of the house.

Just as Robbie had said, Meg was sitting by the fire, her hands lying limply in her lap She was just staring into space, oblivious to everything around her. Across the hearth, the old man sat huddled in his chair, staring helplessly at his daughter. He didn’t speak, merely nodded at Fleur and then wiped away a tear running down his wrinkled cheek.

Fleur knelt in front of Meg and touched her hand. It felt cold, almost lifeless. ‘Mrs Rodwell,’ she began gently, ‘I’ve come to ask you a big favour.’

There was no response from the woman. She seemed unaware of Fleur’s presence.

‘See?’ Robbie said as he limped into the room. ‘I told you. I can’t get her to do anything. She won’t even speak to me. I can’t get through to her.’

Taking both Meg’s hands in hers, she said firmly, ‘Mrs Rodwell, listen to me. My dad needs you.
Jake
needs you.’

Meg blinked and seemed to be trying to focus her eyes on Fleur. It was the name ‘Jake’ that had prompted a tiny response. Fleur latched on to it. ‘Jake wants to see you. He’s asking for you. Please, will you come and see him? Come and see Jake.’

Meg’s lips moved stiffly and her voice was husky. ‘Jake?’

‘Yes – Jake. He’s in hospital. He’s drifting in and out of consciousness. I can’t reach him. I’ve tried. I’ve been there all morning and he won’t wake up. Not for me. And the only name the nurses have heard him say is “Meg”. Oh, please.’ She gripped the woman’s hand even tighter and her voice was full of tears. ‘Oh, please, say you’ll come.’

Meg stirred as if she was awaking from a trance. ‘Me? He . . . he’s asking for me?’

‘Yes.’

But Meg was shaking her head. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why ever not?’ Fleur cried passionately. ‘Don’t you want to help him? Surely – whatever happened in the past – you can put it aside to . . . to save his
life,
can’t you?’

‘You don’t understand. It’s not
me
who doesn’t want to see
him
. . .’ Her voice trailed away and tears trembled on her eyelashes.

‘But he’s asking for you.’

Meg shook her head. ‘He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He must be delirious. He – he won’t want to see me. Besides, it wouldn’t be right. With poor Betsy only just – only just . . .’

‘It can’t hurt my mother now,’ Fleur insisted. ‘She’s gone. If she was still alive, then I wouldn’t be asking you, but she isn’t. Dad is and he needs you.’

‘What will people say . . . ?’ Meg asked. ‘Folks have long memories.’

‘Look,’ Fleur cried passionately, ‘I don’t give a damn about what anyone might say. I don’t care about what happened years ago. I don’t even care that my mother hated the very sound of your name . . .’ She saw Meg flinch and was sorry she had been so blunt, but she pressed on now. ‘I don’t care about any of that. All I care about is my dad and trying to keep him alive. I – I can’t bear to lose him.’ The final words ended on a sob and she buried her face in Meg’s lap.

She felt the older woman’s gentle touch on her hair and heard her say, ‘Neither can I, Fleur. Oh, neither can I.’