Wait For the Dawn (38 page)

He nodded. ‘They’re a new line we’re doing. I thought you might like them.’

‘Oh, I do.’

How different things were now, she reflected. At first he had been unforgiving of Lydia in her marriage to Alfred, but the death of Ryllis had changed all that. He had turned back to Lydia then. She could well remember how he had been at the time. The day after the funeral she had gone with him to the grave where Ryllis lay buried beside her
mother. She had never seen him so shaken, not even when Mrs Halley had died. ‘I wasn’t fair to the girl,’ he had said so many times. ‘I wasn’t fair.’

For a while he had ceased his preaching, and on two or three occasions over those first weeks after Ryllis’s death, Lydia had gone to Capinfell and found him sitting alone in the house. He had, it transpired, only stirred from it in order to go to work.

One thing to come from Ryllis’s sad end was that nothing further that was negative had been spoken about Lydia’s marriage. Her father had come to accept her actions. Where Alfred was concerned Mr Halley had not exactly offered the hand of warmest friendship, but at least there was no animosity between them and they got on politely and reasonably well, and that relationship had improved greatly with the birth of Davie. Mr Halley doted on his grandson and was enormously proud of him.

While Lydia carefully put the buttons away in her bag, Davie said to his grandfather, ‘Grandpa, would you show me the fish, please.’ The boy slid off his chair and moved towards his grandfather, leaning against his knee.

‘You want to see the fish?’

‘Please. Lift me up, will you, please?’

Mr Halley rose from his seat and took Davie under the arms and lifted him up before the stuffed swordfish. ‘There – can you see better now?’

Davie gazed at the fish in awe and silence, and then after a few moments Mr Halley lowered him again to the floor. ‘You get so much heavier every time,’ he said.

Davie sat back on his chair and took a swallow from his cup of chocolate. Then, his eyes moving to the wrapped package beneath his grandfather’s hat, he said, ‘What have you got there, Grandpa?’

Mr Halley nodded. ‘Oh, you noticed that, did you?’

‘Yes. What is it?’

‘Well – perhaps that’s meant to be a surprise.’

Davie grinned. ‘A surprise? A surprise for me?’

‘For you, you cunning little monkey? What makes you think that might be the case?’

‘Because it’s my birthday. You know that.’

‘Yes, I do.’ Mr Halley turned to his daughter. ‘What do you think, Mamma? Should we let him have his birthday present?’

‘Oh, I think so,’ Lydia said. ‘He’s held out long enough.’

Mr Halley lifted his hat from the package and nodded at the child. ‘Go on, then, young man, see what it is.’

Davie took up the parcel from the chair and picked at the string that tied it. When it would not give, Mr Halley took it from him and untied the knot. In seconds Davie had pulled aside the paper and pulled out a soldier with a little drum. After gazing at it for some moments he set it before him on the table. ‘Oh, Grandpa, it’s excellent!’ The soldier was made of tin, brightly painted, and stood some eight or nine inches high, held up by a spindle that was set into a round base with small wheels. He had a tall-crowned cap of black with a yellow plume at the front, and gold epaulettes on his square shoulders.

‘You like him?’ Mr Halley said.

‘Oh, yes! Grandpa, thank you!’

‘Look –’ Mr Halley pointed to the key in the small of the soldier’s back. ‘When you wind him up his legs kick out and it appears that he marches. I think he’ll bang his drum, too.’

‘Oh, let’s do it, Grandpa. Let’s wind him up!’

‘Shall we?’

‘Oh, yes!’

‘All right. Shall I, or shall you?’

‘Oh, I’ll do it, shall I?’

‘Of course.’

The child did so, holding the soldier and carefully
turning the key. At once the soldier began to swing his legs. At the same time his arms moved and his sticks beat the little drum.

‘Look,’ Davie breathed, and then, ‘Oh, let’s see him march.’ Mr Halley cleared a little space on the table, and the soldier was carefully placed down on it. They all three watched then as the soldier moved across the cloth, his legs swinging out, and his arms moving, the drumsticks beating out a rat-tat-tat-tat-tat. Davie was thrilled. ‘Oh, Grandpa,’ he said, ‘he’s wonderful.’

Lydia and her father watched, pleased. ‘A capital choice, Father,’ Lydia said.

‘I got him yesterday, in my dinner-time.’

Two weeks had passed since they had last met, and on that occasion, on a Sunday after midday dinner, Lydia had taken Davie with her to Capinfell. Not only had the pair spent time with Mr Halley, but also they had seen Evie, and the two young women had had a chance to talk together.

Now, sitting at the table, Mr Halley took a swallow from his teacup, watched Davie playing engrossed with his new toy, then said, ‘And how is your husband?’

‘He’s well, thank you – aside from a touch of the gout, which does bother him, I have to say. Lately he’s taken to driving the trap into work, instead of walking – which he usually loves to do.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘But other than that he’s well, and working hard.’

Mr Halley nodded. ‘I don’t doubt that he works hard. I hear the place is always busy.’

‘Oh, he runs a good business.’

Mr Halley gave a little nod in the direction of Davie. ‘And will one day have a good helper, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘Oh, yes. I’m sure he’s got that in mind.’ She paused. ‘But sometimes I think Alfred works too hard. I tell him so, but it does nothing to slow him up. He seems as tireless as ever.’

‘Are you not working there this afternoon?’

‘Oh, yes, I shall be going there straight from here – and I mustn’t be late. Mr Federo, one of Alfred’s assistants, has to go off this afternoon for an appointment, so I must go in. Saturday is a very busy time for the shop.’

‘I’m sure it must be. And you’re taking Davie with you?’

‘Yes, for a while. Ellen, is to come by and collect him later on, and take him home again. That’ll leave me free to help out for a bit longer.’

‘You enjoy it, don’t you? Serving the customers?’

‘Yes, I do. I like to be busy.’

Not long after the birth of Davie, at Alfred’s suggestion, they had hired a nurse for the boy – a young woman by the name of Ellen Hockin, who lived nearby and came in on a daily basis – an arrangement that had enabled Lydia to get back to helping out at the shop again. First she had spent only a limited time there, assisting on the busier days and at other necessary times, but as Davie had grown so she had gone there for longer hours, until lately she was there almost full time.

Now she added, speaking to her father, ‘It keeps me well occupied. I don’t get enough to do at home, what with Mrs Starling and Alice doing most of the work in the house and kitchen, and of course Davie has Ellen, who’s always ready to help out too. It doesn’t leave me a lot to do, and I can’t sit sewing the livelong day. Mind you, since I’ve had this little person I’m kept a deal busier than I was.’

‘I’m sure of it.’

She looked at Davie as he sat examining his toy soldier. ‘And soon Davie will have to go to school.’ She addressed her next words to the boy. ‘Isn’t that so, Davie?’

‘Yes.’ He looked up from the toy. ‘Did you know that, Grandpa? I’m starting to learn reading, and how to sum.’

‘Well done, young man.’

‘I teach him when I can,’ Lydia said, ‘but he needs tuition full time now.’

A young maid came over to their table and asked if they needed anything else. Lydia told her that they had all they wanted, and the girl went away again. Lydia said, turning to her father:

‘Father, you must come out to the house and visit us again. You’ve only been the once.’

‘Yes, well, maybe I will,’ he said.

‘You could come from work on a Saturday and have dinner with us.’

‘Ah, well, maybe . . .’

‘The garden is looking very nice at the moment. We have so many daffodils still out around the lawn, and the primroses are beautiful. We walked here today, and I see so many flowers are out. Cowslips were all over the meadow, and dandelions. Our cherry trees are all in full flower. Oh, Father, you should come and see us, at home, soon. Our garden’s a picture.’

‘Well, yes, as I said, maybe I will. You sound as if you’re fond of your garden.’

‘Oh, I am. That’s something else I do, in the summer evenings, help out Mr Clifford – that’s our gardener who comes in three or four times a week, and believe me, he’s needed in the spring and summer when everything grows apace. And the house is looking so nice now that we’ve had the painters in.’

Davie piped up at this, looking up from his chocolate. ‘My room has been newly papered, Grandpa. It’s got butterflies and birds all over it.’

‘Has it, now? Well, that sounds very nice.’ Mr Halley smiled at the boy and then turned back to Lydia. ‘You’re happy there, aren’t you?’

She hesitated for just the merest second. ‘I’ve got so much to make me happy,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a fine home, and a
loving husband – and he’s a good husband too – and I have a son.’ She put up a hand and touched Davie’s cheek. ‘Haven’t I, my dear?’

‘You mean me?’ Davie said.

Lydia gave a little chuckle. ‘Of course I mean you. Who else.’

‘And you like Merinville,’ Mr Halley said.

‘Yes, I do,’ she nodded, ‘but I always did like it, right from when we used to visit it to come shopping – Mother and Ryllis and I.’

‘You don’t miss Redbury?’

‘No, I don’t miss Redbury.’

‘Nor your friends there.’

‘I didn’t have any friends there. I wasn’t there long enough to make any.’

‘What about Mr – ?’ He came to a halt, unable to think of the name that had stayed in his mind for so long. ‘I can’t remember his name,’ he said.

‘Who? Who are you talking about?’

‘I meant to tell you,’ he said. ‘I meant to tell you ages ago, but it slipped my mind with Ryllis and everything. You’ve just reminded me of it now.’

‘Of what?’

‘It was just after you married. I was at home one day when a young man called. It must have been a weekend. He was looking for you. He said he was a friend of yours – from Redbury. A tall young man, in his mid twenties, I’d say. Dark haired. Handsome fellow.’

And Lydia knew at once who he meant. He could only have been talking of one person. Her breath caught in her throat for a split second, and then she said, ‘He gave you his name?’

‘Yes, he did, but I’ve forgotten it. Maybe it’ll come to me. I would have told you sooner, but like I said, I forgot.’ He gave a little shrug. ‘I told him that you were no longer
living at home, and that you were married and living in Merinville.’

‘Did he – say anything to that?’

‘Not that I recall. I think he just thanked me and went on his way. Ah, yes!’ He touched the side of his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘That’s it. Anderson his name was. It just came to me.’

Lydia nodded, keeping silent. Her father looked a little more closely at her.

‘Are you all right?’ he said.

‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘Are you sure? Have I said something that’s upset you?’

‘What? No. No, not at all.’ She turned to her son. ‘That’s a wonderful soldier you’ve got there, isn’t it?’

Davie nodded happily, and moved the soldier across the table again.

‘Did I have the name right?’ Mr Halley said. ‘It’s been well over four years.’ He took a sip of his tea then added, ‘Mr Anderson – do you remember him?’

‘Oh, yes. Yes, I do.’

Could she ever forget him? It was an impossibility. He was in her mind every day. There was no day that passed that some memory of him did not return. How could she forget him? She had only to look at her son, and there was his father. She needed only to look into the face of her boy, look at his eyes with the thick lashes, and Guy was there, looking out at her. She could see him in the curve of Davie’s lip, in the cut of his square shoulder. Sometimes the awareness shocked her. She would be totally unprepared for the strike of memory, when Davie would turn in a particular way, or smile in a particular way, or look back at her in a particular way, and there Guy would be, and she could see him again, and it would take her breath away. Once again it would all come back. She would think of him in a hundred visions, in the garden beside the square in
Redbury where they had first met; seeing him in the carriage as they drove to Barford; facing her across the table while the man sang; sitting on the bank of the lake where they had made love. There was no escaping from her memories.

‘I do remember him,’ she added. ‘Yes, he was – a friend.’

‘Perhaps I should have told him more,’ he said. ‘Like where he could find you – but I didn’t.’

‘It’s all right.’

‘Mammy, watch!’

Lydia’s attention was taken again by Davie who once more demonstrated how his soldier could move and bang his drum, and she smiled and said, ‘Ah, it’s excellent, darling. I’m sure you’re very pleased.’

‘Are you going to celebrate your birthday?’ Mr Halley said, turning to his grandson.

‘I’m having a party,’ Davie said, grinning happily, ‘but tomorrow, when there’s more time. Tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Three little children who live nearby,’ Lydia said. ‘They’re coming round for jelly and cakes.’

‘Well, that sounds as if it’s going to be exciting,’ Mr Halley said.

‘It will be,’ said Davie, ‘and we shan’t only have jelly and cakes. We shall have sandwiches too, and a birthday cake as well, with candles on it. Isn’t that right, Mammy? A birthday cake with four candles?’

‘Yes, dear.’

‘And we shall play games. We shall play Hunt the Thimble and Blind Man’s Buff and there might even be a lucky dip. Oh, it’s going to be splendid. It’s going to be lots of fun.’

Lydia only half heard her son’s happy prattle. She could not get out of her mind what her father had told her. Guy had called at the house in Capinfell, asking for her. So he had not forgotten. All these years she had had to keep in her
head the belief that she had gone completely out of his awareness, but it was not true. He had not forgotten her.

Lydia still thought of her father’s words as they walked through the town in the direction of the market square. She had said goodbye to her father, and Davie had kissed his cheek, and then, while Mr Halley had made for the coach that would take him back to Capinfell, she and Davie had set off for the shop. As they went, Davie walked at her side holding her hand, his other mittened hand grasping his tin soldier.