Anna Jacobs (29 page)

When Ada came in with her tea, Pamela was sitting in the chair by the fire.

“I didn’t know you wanted to get up, madam. You should have rung for help.”

“I wanted to see if I could manage on my own and I did. I intend to get up every day from now on—while I still can.” She looked at her maid, hating the pity in the woman’s eyes. If anyone knew how bad she was, how little time she had left, Ada did. “I’m grateful for your help over the past few years.”

“Oh. Well, thank you, madam. I’ll get your clothes now, shall I, and help you change?”

“Yes. And after that fetch up a tea tray, with two cups, then you can sit down and tell me all you know about what that man Fleming is doing.”

“I only know what I hear in the kitchen. I haven’t been into Tinsley for weeks.”

“Then you can tell me what the others are saying. They keep trying to protect me from anything unpleasant.”

* * * *

Late that afternoon the five o’clock train pulled into Tinsley station. The two men who had fallen into conversation as they shared a compartment said goodbye and one got out. He pulled his hat down low over his forehead, then went to deposit his suitcase in the left luggage office before walking slowly out of the station. He needn’t have bothered to try to conceal his face. Dusk had already fallen and the people he encountered were more concerned with getting home for tea than studying the faces of passers-by.

He strolled along Yorkshire Road, amazed at the changes that had taken place since the last time he had been in Tinsley many years ago. Before he did anything else, he wanted to renew his acquaintance with the town where he’d been born and call on his brothers. Since the left luggage office stayed open until the last train at ten o’clock, he had time to do that before keeping his promise to Aubrey.

* * * *

The train chugged slowly along the line. At the next stop, the village of Horton, the second man got out and asked directions to the Hall. “Is there a cab?”

“Sorry, sir. There’s only one cab driver and he isn’t working today.”

“I’ll carry your bag on my bicycle rack and show you the way there for threepence, sir,” offered a youth who’d been unashamedly listening to them.

“You’re on.”

Picking up his bag the man followed his youthful guide briskly through the village, enjoying the clear air with its hint of frost. The street lamps stopped before the end of the village, but he had his guide to follow and his eyes soon grew accustomed to the darkness. Quite an isolated place, the Hall. Out of sight and out of hearing of the rest of the village. Not a good position, strategically.

Chapter 15

Later that evening there was a knock on the back door of the bookshop. Only the coalman and dustmen usually came round to the rear, and certainly not at this advanced hour, so Aubrey pulled the frying pan off the gas burner and went to peep out of the window before he answered it. It was too dark to make out more than the figure of a man, but he wasn’t tall or burly and seemed to be on his own.

There was a second knock, so Aubrey took the precaution of arming himself with a stout walking stick before he opened the door just a crack. But what he saw by the shaft of light streaming from the scullery made him throw the stick aside and fling the door wide open! “Jim!”

“I kept my promise, you see.”

“Come in, come in! Why on earth did you go to the back door?”

“I didn’t want to be seen coming here.”

“Seen by who?”

“I’ll explain later.” Jim picked up his suitcase and came inside. “For the moment, have you somewhere I can sleep? I don’t care if it’s on the floor, but I don’t want to be seen in the town till I’m ready.”

“I can do better than the floor. I’ve got a spare bedroom and the bed’s very comfortable. How long can you stay?”

“I’m not sure. A few days at least—if that’s all right with you?”

“All right! That’ll be wonderful! It means you’ll be here over Christmas.” Aubrey led the way into the kitchen. “Have you eaten?”

“No.”

He looked at the frying pan sitting next to the gas burner with its tiny piece of liver. “This won’t go far. I know! I’ll go out and buy us some fish and chips.”

“Buy one serving or people will wonder who the second lot is for.”

Aubrey stilled, staring at his friend in amazement. “What’s all the cloak and dagger stuff about? You’re the last person I’d have thought would—”

“I’ll explain as we eat. Now, go and get that fish and chips while I finish frying this.”

A quarter of an hour later the two men sat down at the tiny table to share a meal. Since both were hungry they ate steadily for a while before speaking then Jim asked, “Have you remembered anything else about yourself?”

“Yes, my name. I was born Frank Fleming, it seems.”

Jim’s fork dropped from his hand as he stared at Frank in shock. “Dear God, you can’t be that man’s son!”

Aubrey set down his knife and fork and looked pleadingly at his friend. “I’m not proud of it, I must admit, but I can’t change who my father is so I hope it won’t come between us.”

“No, of course not. I was just—surprised.”

“Why do you speak as if you hate him?”

Jim stared down at his plate, then said, “He did me a disservice a few years ago, the worst thing anyone has ever done to me in my whole life, and I came back to Tinsley to see him as well as you. I feel it’s more than time to sort a few matters out, though it’s too late for the main thing I wanted . . . Look, I can’t explain the details yet because it’s not my secret alone. Would you trust me and tell me all you know about him without asking too many questions? I’m still trying to work out what to do, how to approach him, you see.”

“You’ve only to stay here and he’ll probably come to you. He’s got men trying to force me to see him, which I don’t want to do yet. I thought you were one of them when you knocked on the door.”

“Did you now? Why don’t you tell me all about it, lad?”

“I’d like to, Jim. I really need some advice. And—and you feel more like my father than
he
does.”

“I wish you
were
my son.”

Both men stared at one another, half-smiles on their faces, then, embarrassed by these admissions and emotions they applied themselves in silence to clearing their plates. Afterwards they boiled a kettle to get some hot water and washed up carefully before going to sit by the fire upstairs. Aubrey took up bottles of light ale from the crate of mixed beers Mrs Beamish had sent along as a Christmas present and poured out two glasses.

Jim took a long pull and then set down his glass. “Now, lad, tell me what’s been happening since you came back to Tinsley . . . ”

* * * *

When there was a knock on the front door of the Hall just as they were all sitting down to their evening meal in the warmth of the big kitchen, Marcus went to answer it himself. He paused to pick up his revolver, just in case.

But the man grinning at him as he opened the door was nothing to do with Fleming. “Den! Come in.”

“When I got your telegram I thought it might be best for me to come straight here. You sounded to need reinforcements, so I told Mum and Dad about your little problem. I’d have been here a couple of hours earlier, but I needed to get a declaration from Dad signed by a Justice of the Peace.”

“Den, you ugly old devil, I can’t think why I’m so glad to see you!” Marcus shook his hand vigorously. “Thanks for coming.”

“Things looking bad?” Den asked softly.

“Not wonderful. Don’t tell them why you’re here. I don’t want to upset Serena unless I have to.” Marcus too spoke quietly. “Fleming actually had the cheek to come out here and make veiled threats. It upset her, but she stood up to him beautifully.”

“I like your wife. Now, hadn’t we better join her?”

Marcus led the way to the kitchen. “Look who’s here! Den was visiting a friend nearby and decided to come and spend a night with us.”

Serena smiled at the cheerful young doctor. She hoped she’d kept the smile on her face, but she’d guessed at once why he was here. Marcus was protecting her again. Well, it made a nice change to be protected instead of used. She went round to offer Den her cheek while Pearl set a place for him at the table.

Aunt Pamela, who had insisted on joining them and was sitting nearest the fire wrapped in a thick shawl, looked disapproving as Marcus brought Den round to be introduced. “In my day we didn’t entertain our friends in the kitchen.”

“I’ve eaten in worse billets, believe me, Mrs Lonnerden,” Den said easily.

“You’re another soldier who’s survived the war, I suppose,” she muttered.

He waggled one hand at her. “Lost a few fingers, though. I was a doctor in the Army. Glad to be out of that sort of thing now, I can tell you.” He cast a professional eye over her yellowish complexion and extreme thinness, but said nothing. When he saw the changes in her nails and the slight tremor of her hand, he guessed what ailed her. He’d seen that look before. You couldn’t mistake the symptoms of renal failure.

She looked at him with eyes that said she knew what he was thinking, then looked away with a sigh.

He set himself to cheer everyone up and soon had even the two elderly maids laughing.

After the meal, however, Pearl stood up and said,  “I’ll just go and get the fire blazing in the sitting room, shall I, then you can move in there?”

Marcus smiled at her. “Thanks, Pearl.” A few minutes later he offered his aunt his arm and led her through to the sitting room, moderating his pace to hers because she didn’t seem able to walk very fast these days. Den strolled behind them with Serena.

To everyone’s relief, Aunt Pamela didn’t stay with them for long and soon said she must seek her bed.

She was walking so slowly that Marcus started to get up to help her. Den tugged his sleeve, mouthed, “I’ll do it,” and went outside with her. She stopped at the foot of the stairs with a sigh and he said gently, “Let me carry you upstairs, Mrs Lonnerden. You don’t want to overtax your strength and I gather you’ve been quite ill.”

“I wish I’d died,” she said bitterly, but let him sweep her into his arms.

“Have you seen a doctor lately?” he asked after he’d set her down on her bed.

She nodded. “I know what’s wrong with me, young man, but I haven’t told anyone the details and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your knowledge to yourself.”

“Of course. But if there’s anything I can do while I’m here, I’m at your service.”

“I thought you were just staying overnight.”

“No. Marcus thinks Fleming is going to make another attempt to control Serena, even set aside their marriage. I’m here in my capacity as a doctor, in case I’m needed to verify that she’s in full possession of her mental faculties.”

“That man should be taken out and shot.” Acid edged her words. “He was a bad influence on my son Lawrence and if I could see him get his just desserts, I’d die a happy woman.”

“Fate doesn’t usually tie things up so neatly, I’m afraid. But I won’t let him lock Serena away, I promise you. And now, dear lady, let me send up your maid to help you to bed. I’ll come and see you in the morning, eh?”

When he went back into the sitting room, his expression was still shadowed and Marcus asked if anything was wrong. He shrugged. “Your aunt isn’t a well woman.”

“No, poor thing. But she’s better than she was, at least. We’ll have to try to feed her up.”

Den didn’t contradict him on this. He preferred to let patients decide how much they told their families about their condition. Well, he did when they weren’t soldiers trapped in a system overloaded with rules and regulations.

After that the evening passed swiftly. At ten o’clock, Serena left the two men talking and when Marcus went to open the door for her, whispered, “Don’t hurry up if you want to chat to Den.”

“Thank you. I thought I’d try to persuade him to stay for a few days. He’ll cheer us all up. That all right with you?”

She smiled. “Of course it is. But I know perfectly well why you brought him here, so you don’t need to pretend his arrival was an accident.”

“I shall have to learn not to underestimate you. You’re still too quiet and I forget that you’re a clever woman—as well as a pretty one.” He kissed her cheek and watched her mount the stairs, appreciating the trim ankles showing beneath a dress she and Pearl had altered.

As he went back to join Den, he decided that a man wanted—no,
needed
—to protect the woman he loved. Theirs might be a quiet love, for neither of them was demonstrative or outgoing, but love was growing between them nevertheless, taking root like a sturdy plant which would, he hoped, only grow bigger and stronger as the years passed.

Smiling at himself for such fancies, he went back to talk to his friend.

* * * *

Evadne came home that evening full of excitement. “I went to lunch with a friend and Justin, you’ll never guess who was there, looking awfully ill at ease?”

“Who?”

“Mrs Hammerton. It seems her husband has been putting pressure on some of my friends’ husbands to get their wives to include her in women’s social events. It won’t work, you know. You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear and she’s an ill-educated bore. Just having her there put a complete damper on the group, I can tell you, because no one likes her husband. Mind, one can’t help feeling sorry for her, she’s such a poor drab of a creature, for all her fine clothes and jewels. And she knew we didn’t want her there.”

“Did she say anything of interest?”

“Nothing specific, but she did let drop that her Cyril is angry about something Mr Fleming has done.”

“How on earth did you get her to say such a thing in public?”

Evadne winked at him. “She didn’t say it in public. I went up to powder my nose at the same time as she did, and I was so friendly she confided in me, saying she knew we’d been forced to invite her and was sorry about that. I told her she must come to my next luncheon and she accepted gratefully. Mind you, I doubt her husband will let her, because he’s one of those anti-Votes for Women types and he was one of those who shouted rude things when we marched through town. He still glares at me if we so much as pass in the street.”