Threads of Silk (22 page)

Harry shook the outstretched hand. ‘Sid talked about you too – but he didn’t like talking about the war. It was more the capers you got up to when you were off duty. Right pair you were by all accounts.’

‘Wish I’d kept in touch more. But you know how it is, when you’re running yer own business, yer time ain’t yer own.’

‘Garage, isn’t it?’ Harry asked politely. He would have guessed anyway from the state of the bloke’s hands.

‘Yeah. Sid told me you wanted to go in that line of work once? Still, I expect you’ll be taking over the stall now, won’t you?’

‘I don’t think so. It’s not really my line.’

‘Well, I’d offer to take you on at my place, but I’m thinking of packing it in. It’s all getting a bit much for me. It’s hard when you’ve spent half your life building something up, and there’s no one to pass it on to. Me son’s just not interested.’

Harry nodded sympathetically as Nobby drained his glass and set it down, handing him a small printed card. ‘If you’re interested, I could have a word with whoever takes over.’ He stuck his hand out again. ‘Nice meeting yer, son. Gotta be on me way. Give us a ring, or call in if yer ever passing – Barnes Garage on the Southend Road, just outside Grays.’

‘I might do that,’ Harry said.

When Nobby had left, Harry stared into his beer glass. He was missing Sid more than he could say.

Sheila touched his arm. ‘I’m taking Mum home,’ she said. ‘And then I’ve got to get back. The kids’ll be home from school soon.’

Harry leaned over to kiss her cheek. ‘I’m gonna miss ’im like hell, Sheila.’

‘I know. He thought of you like a son, you know.’ She patted his arm and left.

Gradually the room started to empty. But there were some, Bert among them, who would hang on till the last of the free booze was gone. These people weren’t Sid’s real friends. Harry had a quiet word with Stan, the landlord, telling him not to bring up any more beer.

‘I know Sid said to keep it flowing, and he left the money to pay for it. But whatever’s left in the kitty can go to the Victuallers’ for the kids’ next Christmas party,’ Harry said quietly.

Stan nodded understandingly. Sid hadn’t been a boozer, but he’d been a good customer over the years.

When everyone had gone, Harry thankfully left the smoke-filled room, pausing in the pub doorway to take a deep breath of fresh air. Bob had left the wake earlier to reopen the café and the traders were packing up their stalls. It looked like a normal day. But Harry knew nothing would be the same again.

Now that he was free of his obligations to his mate, he didn’t know what to do. Sid’s licence to trade in the market had died with him, so he was out of a job now. Not that he’d planned on running the stall for ever. He took Nobby’s card out of his pocket and studied it thoughtfully. Should he take up the bloke’s tentative offer of a job? He was too old to do a proper apprenticeship but he’d learned enough in the Army to get by. It seemed like a chance to do what he liked best – getting his hands dirty deep in the innards of an engine. Besides, he’d never be able to save enough to start his own business. That had just been a childish dream.

He crossed the road, scarcely looking where he was going. Bob waved from behind the café counter, but Harry didn’t feel like talking. He didn’t want to go home either.

He supposed he ought to take a look at Sid’s flat above Cook’s newsagent’s. There must be things to sort out before it could be let again. He hadn’t got the heart to start on it now but he’d pay another week’s rent to give him more time.

Mr Cook was serving a customer and Harry waited till he’d gone. He got his wallet out but the other man waved it away. ‘It’s all paid up till the end of the month. Don’t worry, Harry, mate.’

‘I’ll come back later in the week. Gawd knows what I’m gonna do with his things. I s’pose his good clothes can go to the Sally Ann, the bedding too. They’ll make good use of it,’ Harry said, passing a hand over his face. He’d get old Blakey, the totter from Mile End Road to clear the rest of the flat.

As he turned away, Mr Cook called after him, holding out a brown foolscap envelope. ‘Wait a mo, mate. Sid asked me to give this to yer.’

Harry shoved it into his pocket. It was probably a note telling him what to do with his stuff. He’d look at it later.

Alex had been away for three days this time and Ellie was sure it wasn’t business that had taken him to Manchester. He phoned her each evening, his voice solicitous as usual. If he was having an affair, it was impossible to tell. But despite the lack of real evidence, Ellie was tempted to accuse him of infidelity.

But what right had she, who’d been unfaithful in thought if not in deed? She couldn’t blame him, after all. And if it was just a sexual fling, she could forgive him. She wanted to keep her marriage intact – if only for the sake of the coming baby.

Surely they could make a go of things if they both tried hard enough? And if he wasn’t satisfied with her performance in bed, did it really matter if he sought his pleasure with someone else?

She thought of her mother, who’d struggled to keep her marriage vows, despite her obvious unhappiness. For the first time it occurred to her that the root of that unhappiness might be the same as her own. Maybe Mary hadn’t enjoyed sex with Bert, especially after being so happy with Jim Scott. It was a possible explanation for her father’s behaviour. Maybe, like Alex, he’d been driven to seek satisfaction elsewhere.

As the probable truth of this dawned on her, Ellie felt as if a load had been lifted off her. It hadn’t been her fault, she hadn’t asked for it. And with the thought came a wave of hatred. She would never forgive her father for the harm he’d done, both physically and mentally.

The latest batch of London designs was ready for printing and her other customers had plenty of hand-painted scarves in stock. With nothing to occupy her, Ellie had too much time to think.

The shrill sound of the telephone broke into her introspection and she reached for the receiver reluctantly. There hadn’t been any more silent calls, but she still jumped when the phone rang.

It was Alex, saying he’d be home later in the day. Perhaps she ought to cook something for him. There was plenty of time and she went upstairs, stopping in the doorway of the room which would be the nursery. She had decorated the low-ceilinged room herself in bright sunshine yellow. A hand-painted frieze of zoo animals marched round the walls and silk curtains to match hung at the windows. The furnishings had been chosen with loving care on shopping expeditions with Alex. They’d been happy then, Ellie thought, planning their new life with their baby. Surely they could be again.

As she went downstairs, a shadow fell on the glass panels of the front door and she jumped. It couldn’t be Alex already. She opened the door, a polite smile hiding the nervousness she always felt when someone called at the house unexpectedly. The fear that she’d thought long conquered returned and her stomach trembled. Had Bert found out where she was?

The stranger smiled and, as she recognized him, the years rolled away and it was as if they’d never been parted. After a moment’s brief hesitation, she threw her arms round his neck and hugged him as close as her distended body would allow.

Harry returned the embrace, his face buried in her hair. ‘Ellie, love. I’ve missed you,’ he whispered.

She pushed him gently away and led him into the drawing room. ‘I’ll make some tea.’

In the kitchen, she tried to quell the shaking of her hands, the trembling in her knees. He was here, he’d found her. Did that mean he’d left his wife?

A bubble of hysterical laughter welled up. What was she thinking – that he’d sweep her away, like a knight on a white horse? Here she was a married woman, nearly seven months pregnant. She leaned over the sink and splashed her face with cold water, willing herself to be calm. But Harry was here, he’d found her.

As her breathing steadied a cold thought stole over her. Why was he here? Something must have happened to her mother. Her knees started to shake again and she clung to the edge of the stainless-steel sink, her knuckles white. She couldn’t bear it, she just couldn’t.

His hand clasped her shoulder. ‘Ellie? Are you OK?’ His voice was hesitant. ‘I’m sorry – I didn’t think, should’ve phoned.’ He turned her gently to face him. ‘It’s all right, love.’

‘Mum – is she…?’

‘Your mother’s fine. She’s been ill but she’s OK now.’ He pulled her into his arms and held her, gently rubbing her back until her sobs eased.

She pulled away, looking up into his serious blue gaze through the mist of tears. ‘Harry, you’re not angry with me, are you?’ She might have been a child again, apologizing for breaking one of his model planes.

He grinned at her, the old Harry grin. ‘Bloody furious.’

‘I don’t blame you. That’s why I never got in touch. I thought you and Mum would never forgive me.’

He pulled her to him again and stroked her hair. ‘I
was
angry and – I blamed myself….’

Ellie pushed at his chest, a gesture of denial.

‘I did – you know why. But then I thought there must be more to it than that. And when Mary told me about that place your dad made you work, well….’

Ellie sighed, her face against the rough serge of his jacket. She was safe now, safe where she’d longed to be for so many long years. Yes, they were both married and there was no future for them. But why shouldn’t she stay here just for a little while, storing up these precious memories for the long lonely future? The roughness of his jacket against her cheek, the feel of his arms around her, his strong muscular body against hers – not that she could get that close to him with her bump in the way. A hysterical giggle rose in her throat, immediately suppressed as thoughts of Alex and their baby intervened.

Reluctantly she pulled away and busied herself setting a tray with her best china, filling the silver teapot. She needed these few moments of busyness to calm herself.

Harry watched her silently then followed her down the hall into the drawing room. He stood for a moment in the middle of the room, taking in the polished parquet floor, the Persian rugs, the French windows looking out on to the expanse of garden.

‘You’ve done well for yourself, Ellie,’ he said, as she set the tray on a small table between them.

‘Not me – Alex,’ she said simply.

‘Your husband…?’

‘He’s away at the moment – on business. But he’ll be back later this afternoon. You’ll be able to meet him.’ She didn’t really want Alex and Harry to meet. What she wanted was to leave this house and go with Harry – wherever he wanted. She didn’t care. Seeing him again, feeling his arms round her, had simply confirmed what her heart had always known. She loved him.

But Alex was her husband and she was expecting his child. Despite her suspicions, she knew how important she and the coming baby were to him. How could she hurt him after he’d been so good to her? Besides, wasn’t Harry married too and with a child of his own?

He sat on the edge of a chair facing her, leaning forward, his hands loosely between his knees. His thoughts seemed to echo hers for he sighed and said, ‘What are we going to do, love?’

‘You can go home and tell Mum and the rest of them that I’m fine, that I’ve got a good life. You can leave me to get on with my life – and you can get on with yours.’ He would never know what an effort it was to say those words.

‘I want you to come home, Ellie. Your mum’s not well. She needs to see for herself that you’re OK. She’s been out of her mind with worry.’

Ellie realized how selfish she’d been. Why hadn’t she written, especially after she’d got married? That would’ve set her mind at rest. And Harry wouldn’t have felt the need to find her. He wouldn’t be sitting here now, gazing at her with his blue eyes full of love, reminding her of everything she’d tried to forget over the past few years.

‘I can’t explain, Harry. At the time I thought running away was the only option. I felt I couldn’t come home – Mum would never forgive me.’

‘Can you imagine what we went through, wondering what happened to you?’

‘I’m sorry, so sorry.’ Ellie began to sob again. ‘I was in such a state – I didn’t think anyone would care—’

‘How could you think that?’ Harry’s voice rose. ‘You must have known you could confide in me – if not in your mum.’

‘But you weren’t there, were you? You were in Sheerness.’

Harry pulled her towards him and, once more she let herself cry in his arms. She could never tell him what had made her so desperate. What would he do to Bert if he found out?

When her sobs eased and she tried to pull away from him, he wouldn’t let her go. His lips were on her face, her eyes, her hair, then on her lips, fierce, burning. For a moment she responded, her body weak with feelings she had denied for so long. But it was no good. They shouldn’t be doing this. She pushed him away.

His eyes burned into hers. ‘Ellie, that last time – just before I went to Sheerness….’

She shook her head but he persisted.

‘You did feel something too? You do now, don’t you? I didn’t imagine it?’

Her smile shone through her tears. ‘No, darling Harry, you didn’t imagine it. I love you – I always have. And when I realized….’ She shook her head again. ‘But I convinced myself I was just being a silly kid.’

‘And now?’ His grip on her hands tightened.

‘I don’t have to tell you, do I?’ She pulled away and dried her eyes, sat back in her chair. She looked at him seriously. ‘Harry, we can’t always do what our hearts tell us to. You know that. We have responsibilities now.’ Her hand went protectively to her swelling stomach and a little smile touched her lips.

Harry sighed and stood up. ‘You’re right of course. But, Gawd, it’s hard. How can I go home and just carry on as normal?’ He paced the room restlessly. ‘Come with me,’ he said, turning to her.

‘I can’t.’

He sat down again. ‘At least come back and see your mother. She needs you, Ellie. I promise I won’t try to talk you into anything. I’ve got Sid’s old van outside – it’s only an hour’s run. I could have you back here by teatime.’

‘I don’t know – I’m not sure I can face everyone.’ Ellie looked out of the window. She didn’t want Harry to see how frightened the thought made her. She longed to see her mother but that longing was overridden by her dread of coming face to face with Bert. Wasn’t that the reason she’d stayed away so long?

‘Your mother wants to see you, Ellie. She seems OK now. But I’m still worried about her. Seeing you could be just the tonic she needs.’

‘Why didn’t you bring her with you then?’ Ellie asked.

‘She doesn’t know I’ve come. I wanted to check things out first – see how you felt. For all I knew, you might have shown me the door. And I couldn’t bear the thought of Mary being hurt any more than she has been already.’

His voice was bitter and Ellie’s throat closed at the realization of how much she’d hurt them; so wrapped up in her own pain, she hadn’t thought about anyone else.

She made up her mind. ‘Come on then – but I won’t be able to stay long.’ She clutched Harry’s arm. ‘I won’t have to see Dad, will I?’

‘Don’t worry, he’s hardly ever there,’ he told her.

She grabbed her handbag and a coat from the closet. At the door she turned and took one of her scarves out of a drawer, folding it carefully into her bag.

The van was parked in the lane and she smiled when she saw the lettering on the side – ‘Varney’s Fruit and Veg – always fresh.’ Dear Sid, it would be good to see him too.

That was when Harry told her that Sid was dead.

Her sobs didn’t stop until the van was on the outskirts of London. The green fields had given way to rows of terraces, then parades of shops, behind them the towering cliffs of multistorey flats.

She turned to Harry. ‘How did you find me?’ she asked.

He told her about seeing the magazine article and the detective work that had led him to Great Withies and Withies Farm. ‘I had your phone number – I tried to ring several times, but when I heard your voice I couldn’t speak,’ he confessed.

‘It was you, then. I thought….’ Ellie paused. She couldn’t tell Harry about her suspicions. She eased her aching back against the lumpy seat of the old van, dried her eyes and looked around with a sense of homecoming. She was all cried out now – her tears not just for Sid Varney but for all her lost childhood.

‘Poor Sid,’ she said. ‘He must have been so lonely – no family to look after him when he was ill.’

‘I don’t think he was lonely. He was a big-hearted man, Ellie. He might not have had a family as such, but the market people were his family. He treated me like a son, you know – gave me a job when I came out of the army.’

‘Sid always liked you, Harry. I remember how much he missed you when you went away.’

Harry took his eyes off the road, grinning and Ellie saw that he was seething with an inner excitement. ‘What? There’s something you haven’t told me,’ she said, returning his infectious grin.

‘You’re right, Ellie. Sid did like me – in fact he loved me.’ Harry’s face flushed a little. ‘Like a son, I mean. Do you know what the sentimental old beggar did?

‘Tell me – please,’ Ellie begged.

‘He left everything to me – everything he owned.’ Harry’s eyes had misted over and Ellie realized how much it meant to him. Not in a material way of course. After all, what did Sid have to leave – the stall, a clapped-out old van, maybe a few pounds in the bank?

‘That’s wonderful, Harry. Will you carry on in the market then?’

Harry pulled up at a junction and turned to her. ‘You don’t understand, Ellie – Sid had quite a bit of money stashed away. No one guessed – least of all me. I still can’t take it in.’

His jaw was tight as he tried to clamp down on his emotions and Ellie realized it wasn’t the money he was thrilled about, but the fact that Sid had cared for him.

‘What will you do now, then?’ she asked.

‘I can do what I’ve always wanted to do – set up my own business. Not greengrocery. I can’t get excited about spuds and caulis.’ He grinned at her, his old self again. ‘I’ve always wanted to work with cars. Maybe I’ll set up a repair business. I learnt how in the army.’

‘That’s wonderful, Harry. I’m so pleased for you.’ Ellie fell silent. She was pleased for him. She wanted him to be happy, didn’t she? It should be the most exciting thing in the world – both of them achieving their childhood dreams. But what good did it do if there was no one to share it with? Alex didn’t understand her need to succeed on her own terms, treating her art merely as a hobby. And Harry would be sharing his success with his wife and child – not with her.