Read Always I'Ll Remember Online
Authors: Rita Bradshaw
Always I'Ll Remember (45 page)
‘Oh, this is just the start of it,’ he agreed solemnly. ‘It’s downhill all the way from now on.’
‘And here was me thinking I’d landed in clover.’ This was too near what Wilbert had said and now Abby dropped the bantering tone. ‘I love you, Ike, and we’re going to have a good marriage, aren’t we?’
‘The best.’ Recognising something had upset her, he drew her closer, holding her against his chest. ‘I’m going to make you happy, Abby. More happy than you would have dreamed possible or my name isn’t Ike Marshall Wilmot.’
‘I believe you.’ She put up a hand and tenderly stroked his chin where the stubble was beginning to break through tanned skin. ‘And the same goes for me. I’ll be - what’s the word? - an exemplary wife. How about that?’
His mouth went into a quirk. ‘Just one who loves me will do.’
‘You have that.’
‘Let’s say our goodbyes then and go up to our room.’ He had reserved the honeymoon suite for several days, and now, at the look in his eyes, Abby found herself turning pink. He lowered his head, whispering into the silk of her hair, ‘I love it that you can still blush. The way things are changing it’s becoming a lost art.’
‘Ike, don’t expect - I mean, I’m not experienced or anything and I don’t want you to be disappointed—’
She had hinted at this concern of hers several times in the run-up to the wedding, and now he cut off her voice with a kiss that carried a wealth of love in it. When he drew away, she was pinker than ever, and in the moments before he let her go he murmured, ‘I’m experienced enough for both of us so don’t worry, OK?’ He didn’t add that from the first moment they had met, when he had felt the pull of her so strongly it had initially astounded and then deeply disturbed him, he had known he had to have her. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had had a hundred men before him or, as was the case, none, he had been ensnared and was completely hers. It had not been like that with Eleanor and if he hadn’t been able to make Abby love him, if he had been forced to walk away from her, he knew it wouldn’t be like it with anyone else. He would tell her all this later, once they had made love in the big four-poster bed the honeymoon suite boasted and were content in each other’s arms. For now it was enough that the time he had waited for was upon them, and he intended to make it as special for her as he could.
So this was what marriage was all about, and yet no, no, it couldn’t be like this for everyone or else all the married women she knew would walk about with a great big smile stitched on their faces. Abby wriggled closer into Ike’s side and even in sleep his arm tightened instinctively around her.
She had been so shy and nervous when the door of the honeymoon suite had closed behind them and they were alone, even though she knew she was being silly. She was a grown woman of twenty-four but suddenly she’d felt like a schoolgirl again. And it wasn’t that she was afraid of Ike or even of the act of love itself, it was just . . . the unknown. Winnie had sported with a number of fellows and Rowena had made no secret of the fact that she and Mario were intimate, but for some reason she hadn’t felt able to ask either of her friends exactly what the physical side of marriage entailed.
But it had been . . . She couldn’t find a word to express how she felt. Not just the lovemaking but the things he’d whispered and the promises he’d made. She had expected it to be a quick thing, this physical union, but once he had undressed her and encouraged her to undress him, the urgency she had sensed in him at the reception had gone. They had touched and tasted and done things which still had her face burning when she thought of them. But it had been wonderful, and even the brief pain when he had finally entered her had changed into something pleasurable.
And then in the rosy afterglow he had held her in his arms and talked of the future, a future rich with children and grandchildren, of travel, new experiences. She hadn’t thought of James then, she hadn’t thought of him until Ike had fallen asleep and she had lain in the darkness with a sweet warm throbbing between her legs which had reminded her she was a woman in every sense of the word at last.
She didn’t understand why James had betrayed her, nor how he could have fallen in love with someone else knowing she was still alive and waiting for him, but that was all part of her old life and she had to let it - and him - go. She had never seen it so clearly. She had been given a second chance of happiness with Ike and he was such a special, dear man. Her da had always said you played life with the cards you’d been dealt, not the ones you would have liked, and it was true; she couldn’t honestly have said she would have willingly given up the chance of meeting Ike. Of course if she had still been engaged to James or even known he was still alive things would have been different, but she hadn’t and they weren’t.
She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and scrubbed at them angrily. She wasn’t going to cry, not tonight, not when she had been given the most precious gift in the man lying beside her. He had embraced a new life in a new country for her, and not only that, he had taken on her friends and her sister as though they were his nearest and dearest. Clara was happy and content here and there was no reason for them to ever return to Sunderland and their mother. All ties were cut and they would remain so. Wilbert and his lass would always be welcome and after today she suspected if Audrey visited it would be by herself, which was just fine. This was a new beginning . . .
Within a few minutes Abby was sleeping peacefully, her forehead and Ike’s touching and their arms round each other.
When she next awoke it was to the realisation that the nightmare which had gripped her wasn’t quite gone, in spite of Ike’s arms holding her tight and his calming tone as he said, ‘It’s all right, it’s all right, love. You’re safe. You’re with me. Open your eyes. It’s over.’
‘She . . . she won’t let up, she’ll keep on. She’s after me.’
‘Who, love? Who’s after you?’ He clicked on the bedside lamp, drawing her against his bare chest and stroking the hair from her damp face. ‘It was a dream, hon, that’s all. No one can hurt you now.’
The light banished the last of the horror but the memory of her mother’s twisted face as she had come at her with an axe was still vivid. Abby lay stiff and taut, her voice a whisper as she said, ‘It was my mam. She was after me.’
‘She can’t hurt you, honeypie. The only power she has is what you give her.’ Even as he spoke the words, Ike wondered what on earth had made her scream out like that. She’d told him her mother had mistreated her when she was young, knocking her about a bit and neglecting her, and that she had been the same with Clara which is why Abby had taken her sister under her wing, but there had been sheer terror in her voice before he had managed to wake her up. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked softly.
‘No.’ She turned in to him, seeking the warmth and strength of his big male frame. ‘I don’t want to give her that much importance in my life.’
It was bitter and the doctor in him recognised a wound which was still raw. Nevertheless he did not press her, gathering her up and soothing her with gentle words and caresses until her breathing steadied and she relaxed against him. But for a long time after she slept he lay awake and wondered if it was his imagination that made him feel there was much more that Abby didn’t feel able to tell him.
She was right, he’d lied to her. She’d
known
there was more to Wilbert’s visit than a Christmas reunion. Nora sat on the edge of her son’s bed, the letter she had found hidden on top of the wardrobe crumpled in her fingers. So Abby was marrying a GI, was she, and a fancy one at that. A doctor no less. By, she knew when she was on to a good thing, always had. Nora ground her teeth, the sound loud in the silence. And Wilbert going along with it all and fooling his own mam. She’d give him what for when he slunk back in. Leaving her all alone at Christmas and gallivanting off at Abby’s beck and call, the sneaky little runt.
known
there was more to Wilbert’s visit than a Christmas reunion. Nora sat on the edge of her son’s bed, the letter she had found hidden on top of the wardrobe crumpled in her fingers. So Abby was marrying a GI, was she, and a fancy one at that. A doctor no less. By, she knew when she was on to a good thing, always had. Nora ground her teeth, the sound loud in the silence. And Wilbert going along with it all and fooling his own mam. She’d give him what for when he slunk back in. Leaving her all alone at Christmas and gallivanting off at Abby’s beck and call, the sneaky little runt.
She opened the letter and reread the words which had filled her with such fury, pacing the room, her face dark at the thought of a smiling Abby on the arm of a rich GI.
She had the urge to rip the letter to pieces and fling it about the room, but then she stopped herself. No. She had to think this out before she did anything hasty. On second thoughts it might be as well to let Wilbert think he’d fooled her. That way she had one up on him.
She walked over to the wardrobe and replaced the letter exactly where she had found it. Then she began to remove any evidence of her search, systematically going over the room until it was exactly as it had been when she entered it.
Nora stood for a moment at Wilbert’s window, looking down into the dark street. Christmas Eve had passed into Christmas Day an hour ago and the rest of the world was asleep, apart from her. Self-pity and resentment pulled her mouth into a thin line. Not a card or a gift in the house, and she’d be eating Christmas dinner alone. She just wished that daughter of hers was a bairn again so she could thrash her within an inch of her life like she’d used to: that’d teach her to turn everyone against her.
A sudden thought brought her eyes narrowing. She knew Audrey and the family had gone away for Christmas to Ivor’s brother’s widow because Maud Duffy on her sister’s other side had taken great pleasure in telling her so, flaunting the fact she knew more about the family’s goings-on than she did. But what if all that had been a tale Audrey knew Maud was sure to tell her? Aye, the more she thought about it, the more it all fitted into place. Abby had invited Audrey and her lot as well as Wilbert to the wedding, she would bet her life on it.
She wished she’d done something before Wilbert had gone now; she should have trusted her instincts that there was more to this reunion than met the eye. She’d always been able to smell a rat before it was stinking. And Ivor there with them all, no doubt enjoying himself and acting the cuddy for the benefit of all and sundry. She’d expected a blow-up when she’d told Abby Ivor was her da but as the months had gone on she’d realised it wasn’t going to happen. Now it looked as though they were going to be one big happy family. So much for Abby worshipping Raymond. Little hypocrite.
Nora walked across the room, smoothing down the coverlet on Wilbert’s bed before going downstairs to the warmth of the kitchen range. It had been icy upstairs, and now she stood holding out her cold hands to the heat before putting the kettle on to boil. She made a cup of tea and added a double measure of whisky to it, drinking it down almost in one go before pouring herself another, again with whisky. She’d go to first Mass and tell Father Finlay the latest. He understood what she had to suffer, did Father Finlay.
After the third whisky-fuelled cup of tea, she sat staring at the half-empty bottle. She was getting through a couple of these a week now, but then what else did she have in life to cheer her?
Maudlin tears began to fall as they did almost every night after she had drunk herself silly.
The little bit she earned was her own after all, she told herself fiercely. If she wanted to treat herself, why shouldn’t she? This time she didn’t bother adding tea to the cup.
Half an hour later her chin fell to her chest and loud snores began to fill the room, but even in sleep her fingers kept tight hold of the cup in her hand.
PART SEVEN
Completing the Circles
1955
1955
Chapter Twenty-six
T
he tall slim woman who was standing looking out of her kitchen window at a blue March sky dotted with fluffy white clouds could have been any age between twenty and thirty. Few folk would have guessed she was in fact thirty-four years old. Abby did not have the faintest of lines on her face, her thick hair was still as rich and shiny as when she’d been in her teens, and her beauty - now matured to its full potential - was striking.
he tall slim woman who was standing looking out of her kitchen window at a blue March sky dotted with fluffy white clouds could have been any age between twenty and thirty. Few folk would have guessed she was in fact thirty-four years old. Abby did not have the faintest of lines on her face, her thick hair was still as rich and shiny as when she’d been in her teens, and her beauty - now matured to its full potential - was striking.
But the last ten years had not been easy, far from it. For the first five rationing had bit harder than ever, and the ferocious winter of 1947-8 had devastated the potato crop nationwide. In spite of all Abby’s and the other women’s efforts, their fledgling business had almost been finished before it had really begun, their losses substantial.
Ike, as one of the local GPs, had been run off his feet with thousands of cases of pneumonia, pleurisy and hypothermia, all of which had culled the old and very young more ruthlessly than ever Hitler’s bombs had. Abby had no doubt that the eighteen- and nineteen-hour days Ike had put in at this time had contributed to the first of his three heart attacks some months later. The last one in June 1953 had occurred as they had watched Queen Elizabeth’s Coronation in the home of one of Ike’s doctor friends in Manchester - London, Birmingham, Cardiff, Manchester and Glasgow were the only cities where programmes could be received - and had been fatal. He had died in her arms; but for their two little boys, Abby would not have wanted to go on.
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