Wait For the Dawn (29 page)

Lydia smiled, and the dog thumped his tail on the floor.

‘And I’m serious, Miss Halley,’ the man said. ‘I truly have – wanted to talk to you.’ He paused, then said, ‘Would you mind if I call you by your first name?’

‘No,’ Lydia said, ‘not at all.’

He smiled gravely. ‘Thank you – and I’d be glad if you’d call me Alfred.’

She smiled, but didn’t know how she ever could, though she nodded as if it were no problem.

The rain pattered on the pane, now, it seemed, driven by the wind. For some moments neither one spoke, then Mr Canbrook said:

‘I want to talk to you – Miss Halley – Lydia – in a very serious way.’ He halted, as if waiting for her to speak. When she said nothing, only gave a vague nod, he went on,
‘I hope you won’t be offended at anything I have to say. I can only tell you that I have the utmost respect for you, and that whatever you think of what I’m about to say, no offence is intended. D’you understand?’

‘Yes, I understand.’ She was puzzled by his words, and was now curious as to what he would say.

‘Good.’ He nodded, paused for some moments, as if seeking out the most appropriate words, then said, ‘May I speak freely?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Thank you.’ He smiled. ‘I’m glad I haven’t frightened you away by now.’ He leaned forward slightly, his hands on his knees. His expression was earnest. ‘You might well wonder,’ he said after a moment, ‘why I’ve chosen to speak out at a time like this. Well. . .’ He came to a halt here, as if uncertain how to continue. Then after a second or two he said, ‘I asked you, some months ago, when I met you here at the shop one day, if you were engaged in anyone’s affections. Do you recall?’

‘Yes.’ Lydia frowned slightly. ‘Yes, I remember.’

‘Yes, and I was pleased when you assured me that you were not. So I said then that I would write to you. I didn’t do so, of course, for very soon afterwards I heard of the tragic death of your poor mother. It would have been very indelicate for me to have written to you at such a time as that.’ He shook his head sympathetically. ‘Oh, dear, that must have been a terrible blow for you – her passing. I was so sorry to hear the sad news.’

Lydia gave the slightest nod, and murmured, ‘Thank you.’

‘And I hope I’m not speaking out of turn now,’ he said. A moment’s pause, then he added, ‘I’m not a young man. I don’t need to point that out to you. I’m fifty-three years old, and it’s partly due to this – circumstance – that I’m talking to you now as I am.’ His voice was low, earnest. ‘I was
twenty-two when I met Louie, the girl who was to be my wife,’ he continued. ‘Louise was her name. She was three years older than I, a strong, independent young woman, and very attractive.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘I had to have her, although she’d hardly look at me at first. So – I played something of a waiting game. I was smart enough to do that, and at twenty-two I had time. So – I courted her. I wrote to her. I called round at her house and asked her out walking. I brought her little presents: fruit and chocolate and little things. For heaven’s sake, I even composed verses for her – and pretty terrible they must have been, I’m sure!’ He gave a little chuckle here. ‘But I suppose they seemed all right at the time. At the start I could barely get her to acknowledge me, it seemed. She was very hard to get to know, to get close to.’

He took up his mug and sipped from it. A gust of wind threw the rain at the window, and he looked over at the sound. ‘Listen to that,’ he said. ‘It’s coming down like billy-o, but we need the rain, there’s no doubt about it.’ The fabric of his waistcoat looked a little stretched across his belly.

He set the mug back down on the tray and then said, ‘Yes, Louie was very hard to get close to. Well, there you are, I wasn’t the most prepossessing, I suppose. I mean, she was an inch taller than me for a start, and I wasn’t the most handsome of the young men hanging around, but –’ and here he gave a little smile, ‘I suppose you could say I was the most persistent. In the end – I suppose I wore down her resistance, and I won. Yes, I won.’ Another little laugh here. Then he continued, ‘I like to think that she saw past the negative things and saw the real me. Or maybe I’ve been fooling myself all these years. Anyway, I guess when it came to it she thought she should take a chance on me – and she did. I don’t think she ever regretted it. We worked in the shop together, and a capital partnership, it was, believe
me.’ He paused, then added, ‘That was until almost seven years ago, when she died.’

He sipped from his mug again, seeming for a moment lost in his own thoughts. Lydia, wondering where all this was leading, and conscious of the time passing, sneaked a look at the clock on the shelf. She wanted to say,
It’s time I left if I’m to get my train
, but she did not want to appear rude, did not want to appear dismissive of his seriousness. Besides, the rain was still falling heavily. He it was, though, who focused briefly on the hour. Looking at the clock himself, he said, ‘It isn’t long before your train is due, is it?’

‘No – I’m afraid not.’

‘But you can’t go out in this,’ he added, glancing towards the rain-lashed window. ‘What time is the
next
train – the one after?’

‘It’s about half an hour later, at just after six.’

‘Would it get you in too late if you took that one?’

She hesitated, but hesitated too long, and he said, ‘Well, take that one, will you? The rain should have passed over by then. In any case, I’ve got an umbrella, and I intend to walk with you to the station. Or I’ll go and get you a cab – whichever you’re happiest with. Yes, I think you’d be better off in a cab, and avoid all the puddles.’ He paused. ‘Can you take the later train? Please?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’ She had no reason to rush back to Redbury; there was nothing for her there but sitting in her room and waiting for the time to pass – to bring her ordeal closer.

He smiled his gratitude. ‘Thank you.’ He looked at her mug on the side table. ‘You’re not drinking your tea.’

‘I was letting it cool a little,’ she said, and picked up the mug and drank.

‘Is it all right?’ he said.

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Not too strong?’

‘No, it’s fine.’

He nodded and leaned forward again in his chair. ‘I was telling you about my wife, about marrying her, wasn’t I?’

Lydia gave a little nod. ‘Yes,’ she said politely.

‘Yes,’ he echoed. ‘Well – we were happy, all things considered. Not everything worked out as we’d hoped, but – but we made the best of things, and we were happy in our way. Then, as I said to you just now, she died seven years ago, and I’ve been alone since then.’ At his feet Tinny lifted his head and laid it down again. Absently, Mr Canbrook bent and gave the dog a pat, and then remained as he was, leaning down with one hand on the dog’s shoulder. After a while he straightened again, and looked directly at Lydia.

‘I’m going to ask you something now,’ he said, ‘but I must first ask you not to give an answer right away. Is that all right?’

Lydia frowned, at a loss as to what to say. ‘Well, yes. . .’

‘I’m assuming that your situation is about the same. In that you’ve got no plans with anyone else? That you’ve got no plans to marry?’

‘No.’

He nodded. ‘I’m not being impertinent, truly; I just have to know if someone has come into your life. Someone special.’

She hesitated for a moment, while Guy’s face came before her, then gave a little shake of her head. ‘No.’

He smiled, relieved. ‘Good. I told you just now,’ he said, ‘how I courted my wife, and how in the end she accepted me, but I haven’t got time for that again. I can’t wait for years this time. Oh, believe me, if I were younger I’d do it the right way. I’d send you little presents and take my time so that you could get to know me, but there isn’t time. Time isn’t on my side – not at my age.’

He came to a stop again, then said, his words coming out in something of a rush:

‘Miss Halley – I want so to marry you.’

Having spoken he sat looking directly at her, eyes slightly wide and anxious, waiting to see how she would react.

Lydia sat without moving. She could scarcely believe what she had heard. He had given out enough hints in his preceding speech, so she should have been ready for his announcement, but her remaining preoccupation with her own thoughts had left her unprepared for his surprising words. It did not seem real. In fact nothing of the whole scene seemed to be real. She could still hardly banish from her mind her conversation with Evie, when she had asked for the woman’s name and address; while another part of her mind was still struggling to know which was up and which was down; and yet here she was sitting with this man – whom she had never taken seriously in her life – and right out of the blue he was telling her that he wished to marry her.

She looked towards the window and saw to her relief that the rain had eased, had almost stopped. The skies above were clearing, changing the light.

‘Oh, yes, I want to marry you,’ Mr Canbrook breathed. His hands were clasped tightly before him. He was frowning in his earnestness. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘Oh, Miss Halley – Miss Halley – Lydia – I’ve loved you for years.’ He hesitated for a moment as if to allow a response, but Lydia still kept silent. ‘Yes, for years,’ he said. ‘Since the day you came here into the shop with your mother and she had the bee-sting – do you remember? Of course you do. I watched you that day, how solicitous you were, how sweet you were.’ He put a hand up to his mouth, very briefly, as if he would stop his words, then added, ‘And how beautiful.’

Lydia, her tea forgotten, sat looking at him, this little man with the rather fussy manner, the misshapen nose and the slightly crooked smile – a smile that he could not help but
turn upon her. Her father had spoken of him as ridiculous. She could think of not a single word to say.

‘I mean every word of it,’ he said. ‘I love you. Which is why I’ve gone to Capinfell in the hope of seeing you some Sunday mornings. Which is why I’ve asked your friend for news of you.’ He shook his head and gave a little sigh of wonder. ‘And I still can hardly believe it: here I’ve been thinking of you so much, and I find you sitting on my own doorstep.’

He fell silent, looking at Lydia as if waiting for her to speak, but still she did not, and hearing nothing from her he took encouragement from her silence and said:

‘I know all the things I’m not,’ he said. ‘I’m not tall, I’m not handsome, I’m not young, and for all I know I might be coming over as a complete fool. Well, fool or not, I’ve energy to work, and I can promise you that you would not want. You’d never have to work again if you did not wish to, though I would love it if your inclination was to work alongside me in the business. The shop is very successful, and it will go on being successful after I’m gone. You’d have a good home. My house is quite large, and you would have help in the running of it.’ He paused. ‘Will you please think about my offer? You would do me the greatest honour if you could bring yourself to say yes.’

Lydia said nothing. She could still hardly believe the words that he had spoken.

‘Will you think about it?’ he said again.

Now she gave a nod and found herself murmuring, ‘Yes.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Thank you. Though as I told you, I don’t want your answer yet. If you give it to me too soon I’m pretty sure I know what it’ll be. No, please be kind and give it to me after you’ve had a little while to think about it.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘And in the meantime I’ll try to work up some courage in case the news is bad.’

‘Mr Canbrook,’ she said, ‘I’ve got to go.’ She started to
rise from her seat. ‘I must go for my train while the rain’s holding off. I think if I go now I might still make the earlier one.’ Now she could not wait to leave.

He got up also. ‘I’ve offended you,’ he said, frowning.

‘What? No. No, you haven’t.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure. Truly.’

‘And – and you will – think about it?’

‘Well, I –’

‘Please, Miss Halley.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I will.’

He gave a little smile of satisfaction. ‘I’ll get my umbrella,’ he said, ‘and we’ll go out and find a cab.’

Monday morning. A wave of nausea hit Lydia just as she was finishing dressing, and she knelt, retching repeatedly until eventually the spasm passed and she could straighten up, her head pounding and the sweat beading on her forehead. She had brought nothing up but a little bile, but there, she had not eaten anything in many hours.

After sitting on the edge of the bed, her breast heaving while she slowly got her breath back, she rose and finished dressing. When she was done she went out onto the landing and down the stairs to the dining room. There she forced herself to utter a cheery ‘Good morning’ to Mrs Obdermann, struggled to eat what she could of the breakfast of fried eggs and buttered bread, and then went off to work.

The same story was repeated on the Tuesday, except this time she seemed to retch even more violently. One thing was certain, she could not face another fried breakfast, and down in the dining room she picked at the food and moved it around on her plate, until she could find the courage to thank Mrs Obdermann and get up from the table. She would be able to eat something at dinnertime at the store, she told herself; she would feel more like it then.

‘You don’t seem to have much appetite lately, Miss Halley,’ Mrs Obdermann said with a little sniff as Lydia turned to go from the room.

‘No, I haven’t, I’m sorry to say,’ Lydia replied. She gave a smile that she was far from feeling. ‘But it’ll come back in a day or two.’

‘Let’s hope so,’ Mrs Obdermann said, ‘or you’ll be wasting away to nothing.’

Lydia did manage to eat something at the store in the midday dinner break, but dismayingly a little nauseous feeling came back to plague her again during the afternoon. She fought it off, however, and hoped no one had noticed. The day dragged, as all the days seemed to drag just now, and she waited for the end of the working day to come. Perhaps, she told herself with a mixture of hope and fear, Evie would have written with the woman’s name and address.

Evie had. On returning to the house in Little Marsh Street Lydia let herself in with her latchkey and saw the letter waiting for her on the hall table. She took it up and went to her room. Inside, behind the closed door, she tore open the envelope. Evie had written: