A Cuckoo in Candle Lane (17 page)

‘He won’t ’ave it, Mum. Now I’ve got to go, I’ll see you later.’

‘Hold on a minute, what time will—’

Sally didn’t give her mum time to finish speaking; she was already on her way out again.

She drew up a chair beside Nelly, and they sat holding hands, listening to George’s laboured breathing. The tortured rise and fall of his chest became hypnotic, and Sally lost all track of time.

Gradually, sitting in the dim room, her head began to droop with exhaustion. It was as she blinked her eyes furiously in an effort to stay awake, that she became aware of a light hovering at the foot of the bed. She lifted her nose, sniffing the air. It was unmistakable. The overpowering scent of lavender.

There was a gasp and she turned to see Mr Cox struggling to sit up, his arms outstretched as though reaching out to someone. He opened his mouth, whispering just one faint word, before slowly sinking back, the breath leaving his body in a strange rattling sound.

‘No, no!’ Nelly wailed, throwing herself across the bed and sobbing hysterically. ‘George, oh George, don’t leave me, darlin’! Come back, please come back!’

Sally stared at his grey face, her body rigid with shock. It’s like looking at an empty shell, she thought, as though the essence of the man she knew had gone. Then it hit her, like a blow to the stomach. He was dead.

Nelly turned anguished eyes towards her. ‘Help me! Please, help me! He can’t be dead – he can’t!’ she screamed.

Feeling overwhelmed, Sally sat rigidly, her mind frozen before panic set in. I need help, she thought, and desperate to get away, she made a sudden bolt for the door. ‘I’m gonna get me mum, I won’t be long!’ she yelled, running from the room.

‘Mum, Mum, come quick,’ she shrieked, running into the kitchen.

‘Wha … what’s the matter,’ Ruth stammered, already half-asleep in a chair.

‘Quick, Mum, it’s Mr Cox, he’s dead and Nelly needs you.’

‘What’s the time?’ Ruth asked, running her hands over her eyes and glancing at the clock. ‘Sally, where ’ave you been? It’s nearly eleven o’clock.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, will you listen to me, Mum. Nelly needs you.’ She shouted now, emphasising each word. ‘Her husband is dead!’

At last it seemed to penetrate her mother’s foggy mind and she jumped to her feet, eyes darting wildly around the room. ‘All right, I’m coming. Now, where’s me shoes?’

She felt her temper rising. ‘Mum, just come in your slippers.’

‘What’s going on?’ Sadie asked, appearing in the doorway, her dressing-gown slung around her shoulders and blue hairnet askew. ‘What’s all this racket?’

‘Mr Cox is dead, Gran,’ she answered, bursting into a fresh flood of tears.

‘Ruth, get yourself along there, I’ll see to Sally,’ the old lady ordered.

‘Yeah, all right, all right, I’m going ain’t I,’ her daughter said irritably as she hurried out.

Sally sank onto the sofa. ‘Oh Gran, it was horrible. I’ve never seen anyone die before. I didn’t know what to do and I ran away.’ She buried her face in her hands. ‘I feel so ashamed. How could I do that to Nelly?’

Her gran drew her close, saying, ‘Now you listen to me, my girl. There ain’t many fifteen-year-olds that could have stayed to watch someone die. All right, so you ran off afterwards. Bloody ’ell, it’s not surprising that you panicked – and anyway, she’s not on her own now. Your mum’s with her.’

Sally felt drained. Her eyes were swollen and sore from crying, and her head was beginning to thump. ‘I’m so tired, Gran,’ she whispered, ‘and what’s the point of doing this healing? It didn’t help Mr Cox, did it – and I’m sure Nelly expected me to save him.’

‘Look, love, you can’t perform miracles. He was already terminally ill when he came to you and at least you helped to ease his pain. Now come on, you’ve been out since early this morning and must be starving. I’ll get you something to eat.’

Unable to stomach the thought of food, Sally said, ‘No, I don’t want anything, Gran.’

‘All right, but I’ll make you a cup of cocoa and then you can get yerself off to bed.’ She squeezed her arm, adding, ‘Things will look different in the morning, Sal. They always do.’

W
hen Sally awoke the next morning she lay sleepily gazing at dust motes dancing in a shaft of sunlight that streamed through her window. Her eyes felt sticky and she rubbed at them impatiently with her knuckles, groaning as memories of the previous night came flooding into her mind.

‘Sally,’ her mum shouted from the foot of the stairs. ‘It’s gone ten o’clock. Do you intend getting up today?’

‘Yeah, I’m coming,’ she called despondently, groping for her slippers and throwing an old cardigan over her nightie.

Padding into the bathroom she looked dispiritedly at her reflection in the mirror, seeing a drooping mouth, eyes that were puffy slits and hair standing up on end like a hedgehog. Bending over the sink she splashed cold water onto her face, and with wet hands tried to smooth her hair before attacking it with a comb. Oh, what does it matter, she thought, slinging the comb impatiently back on the shelf and heading downstairs.

‘Sal, you look awful,’ her mum said as she walked into the kitchen.

‘Leave the girl alone, Ruth, she’s had a rotten time,’ her gran intervened, coming to her defence as usual.

‘Christ, Mum, all I said was that she looks awful and—’

‘How’s Nelly?’ Sally interrupted, in no mood to listen to them bickering.

‘Not too bad, considering. I went down to see her first thing this morning and now Peggy’s with her. They’re going to the undertaker’s tomorrow to sort out the funeral. Joan Mason is dealing with the catering, and I told her we’d all muck in. Oh, and Mrs Edwards is arranging a collection for flowers.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘It’s a shame really. Nelly ain’t got any family left so there will only be friends and neighbours at the funeral.’

‘Blimey,’ Sadie said. ‘It didn’t take long to get that lot sorted. The poor sod only died last night.’

‘You know what it’s like around here, Mum. Everyone loves Nelly, and as soon as word got out that George had died, they all wanted to help.’

‘Yeah, I know, but bleedin’ hell, if Joan Mason’s arranging the catering she’ll be bossing everyone around as usual.’

‘I know, but she volunteered and we didn’t ’ave the nerve to say no. Oh, by the way, Sally, Nelly wants you to pop down to see her.’

She gaped in horror. ‘Oh no … I can’t face her.’

‘Why ever not? She’s grateful that you stayed with her.’

‘I should think so too,’ her gran snorted. ‘She should’ve had more sense and sent for one of us.’

Sally hung her head, unable to blot out the sight of Mr Cox’s face lying lifeless and grey on the pillow. She remembered her promise to him and knew she had no choice – but not yet; she couldn’t face it yet. ‘I think I’ll get dressed now and pop round to see Ann. I’ll go to Nelly’s later, Mum.’

‘Hold yer horses, my girl. What about breakfast?’ Ruth asked indignantly.

‘Not now, I’m not hungry.’ She saw her mum and gran exchange glances, and they both pursed their lips in disapproval. ‘Look, I’ll have something later,’ she promised, hurriedly leaving the room, knowing that if she didn’t escape she would get a nagging from both of them.

Now, sitting on Ann’s bed, her friend listened without interruption as Sally told her about Mr Cox, her face full of sympathy, and only changing expression when she came to the bit about her date with John that afternoon.

‘What’s he like, Sally?’

‘He’s lovely, really nice-looking and ever so polite. He even offered me his hanky when I was choking on a cup of tea. Honestly, I was mortified, and must have been crimson with embarrassment.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘But I can’t face going out with him now, and anyway, just look at the state of me.’

‘Don’t be daft, Sal. I could soon fix your hair, and a bit of make-up will take care of the rest.’

‘I’m too upset, Ann. I keep seeing Mr Cox over and over again in me mind.’

‘Going out with John might be just what you need – it’ll take your mind off it.’

‘I dunno,’ she said doubtfully. ‘We’re supposed to be meeting at Battersea Park, but I’m just not in the mood.’

‘Well, you can’t leave him standing there like a lemon, waiting for you. How would you face him at work tomorrow?’

Sally knew Ann was right and drummed her fingers impatiently, unconsciously mimicking her mother’s habit. She drew in a deep breath. ‘Bugger it, I’ll just ’ave to go then, won’t I?’ she said, exhaling loudly with exasperation.

‘Come on, it won’t be that bad,’ Ann cajoled. ‘From what you’ve told me, he sounds really nice. Wait till Arthur hears about this,’ she added gleefully, ‘it’ll bring the bighead down a peg or two.’

‘Ann,’ Sally asked hesitantly. ‘Er … could you lend me something to wear?’

‘Don’t be daft, of course I can. I tell you what, how about that pencil skirt I bought last week and my beige blouse to go with it?’

‘Not that lovely brown one! But you haven’t worn it yourself yet.’

‘It doesn’t matter, this is a special occasion. My goodness, the ice maiden is going on a date.’ She gawked at Sally, her face turning pink with embarrassment. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry, it just slipped out. That was an awful thing to say.’

Sally stared at her friend. First Arthur had called her frigid and now Ann was saying she was an ice maiden. Was it true? Was there something wrong with her?

‘Please, don’t look at me like that,’ Ann begged. ‘I didn’t mean it, honest. It’s just that you usually run a mile if a boy shows the slightest interest in you. Look at Arthur, for instance – he’s been after you for ages.’

Sally could see how upset her friend was, and forced a smile. ‘I know, you’re right, but there’s something about John that makes me feel I can trust him. He’s different somehow.’

Ann uncurled her legs and stood up, patting Sally on the arm. ‘Let’s get you sorted out then.’ She walked across the room, opened her wardrobe, and pulled out the skirt and blouse.

Sally left Ann, returning home in time for Sunday dinner, her thoughts on both Nelly and her date with John later that afternoon.

‘Sally, you didn’t want any breakfast and now yer hardly eating any dinner. What’s the matter?’

‘I’m nervous about going to see Nelly. I just don’t know what to say to her, Mum.’

It was her gran who leaned forward and touched the back of her hand. ‘Just let her talk about her husband if she wants to. I remember when our David died, and then yer granddad. Nobody would let me talk about either of them and it really upset me. It made me feel like they’d never lived. I wanted to talk, to relive my memories; it somehow brought them alive again in me mind.’

‘I didn’t know you felt like that, Mum,’ Ruth said.

‘No, I don’t expect you did, love. I hid most of my feelings from you and Mary – you were both grieving too, don’t forget. Anyway, people were only trying to be kind.’

Sally saw the sadness on their faces and rapidly changed the subject. ‘Mum, I’ve got a date this afternoon.’

‘What! A date, you’ve got a date? And when was this arranged? You’re a bit late telling me, my girl.’

‘I’m sorry, Mum. I met this bloke in the canteen on Saturday. He’s ever so nice, but then Mr Cox died, and I forgot to tell you.’

‘Hmm, and where are you going on this date?’

‘We’re only going for a walk.’

‘All right, Sal, but I want you home by eight o’clock, and no later mind.’

‘I’ll be home well before that, Mum,’ she assured her.

Sally had been to see Nelly, and as gran advised, had let her talk about her husband. She had been so sweet, saying that the healing
had
helped – but Sally knew she was just being kind. After all, what good had it done? It hadn’t been able to save George.

Now she was reluctantly on her way to meet John, and as she got off the bus, her eyes scanned the road ahead. He was standing by the gates and when he caught sight of her, his face lit up.

‘You came then,’ he said, smiling gently.

The sound of his soft, husky voice made her stomach flutter, and she smiled back shyly.

‘You look lovely, Sally,’ he said, placing his hand on her elbow and guiding her through the gates into Battersea Park.

She tensed nervously at his touch, but steeled herself by gazing at the flower borders just inside the entrance. The rows of brightly coloured blooms – yellow dahlias competing with bright red geraniums – lifted her spirits and she smiled in pleasure, beginning to relax.

As they strolled along she could see several families sitting on the grass, picnics spread on gaily-patterned rugs, and their children playing in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leafy canopy of huge oak trees. ‘It’s lovely here,’ she murmured.

‘Haven’t you been to the park before?’ John asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

‘Not for a long time. Do you come here a lot then?’

‘Yes, I live just across the road and use the tennis courts a lot. Do you play?’