When the Lights Go on Again (6 page)

They’d never considered him good enough for their daughter, although Charlie had only discovered that on his wedding day, when Daphne’s cousin had let slip that Daphne’s parents and, indeed, Daphne herself had been expecting a local land-owning neighbour’s son to propose to her, and when he had married someone else instead marriage to Charlie had been seen by them as a face-saving exercise.

Now, though, this neighbour’s son was a widower, thanks to the war, and free to remarry, and it seemed that the woman he wanted to marry was Charlie’s wife.

Naturally Charlie had expressed shock and anger when this news had been relayed to him by his father-in-law, but the old fart had outmanoeuvred him by announcing that he knew all about the girls Charlie saw when he was on leave in London, because he had apparently been having Charlie followed, so that evidence could be gathered to back up Daphne’s claim for a divorce. Charlie’s father-in-law had actually had the gall to add that in view of his taste for variety, Charlie might actually welcome the freedom of a divorce.

Charlie, however, wanted no such thing. Announcing that he was married, as he had discovered, was a very effective way of sorting out the girls who wanted to play the game his way and have a good time, from those who were after something more permanent. Now his father-in-law was demanding that Charlie did the decent thing, so that Daphne, her name clear of any wrongdoing, could get her divorce and be free to remarry.

No, he wasn’t looking forward to the coming weekend at all, Charlie admitted.

There’d be no point in trying to tap up Bella, his sister, for a few quid; they’d never been what one might call close, but their relationship had really deteriorated after Bella had taken in that girl who reckoned that he’d fathered her brat.

He had reached the outskirts of Liverpool now, the Mersey a grey gleam to his left, made even greyer by the hulls of the naval vessels and merchant convoys filling the docks.

Liverpool was the port used by most of the convoys crossing the Atlantic, bringing in much-needed supplies of raw materials and food. Not that the vitally important role his home city was playing in the war effort interested Charlie.

Wallasey was considered far more exclusive than Liverpool, the town holding itself apart from the city in the manner of a ‘lady’ keeping her distance from her servants, whilst being dependent on them.

The last few miles of the drive increased Charlie’s ill humour. He’d have given anything to turn the car round and drive back to London, he acknowledged as he pulled up outside his mother’s house.

In the front window a lace curtain twitched ever so slightly, but Charlie was too preoccupied with his own sense of injustice and ill-usage to notice.

‘Bella, it’s Charlie. He’s here,’ Vi Firth announced, letting the lace curtain drop and then hurrying into the hallway, patting the rigid waves of her new hairdo, before going to open the door.

Lord, but his mother looked drab and dull; no wonder his father had left her for someone younger and livelier, Charlie thought unkindly as he submitted himself to Vi’s tearful embrace.

‘Such a shame that dearest Daphne couldn’t come with you. I can see that I’m going to have to travel down to see her,’ Vi informed Charlie, before turning towards the kitchen and calling out in a far sharper voice, ‘Bella, do hurry up with that tea. Your poor brother has been driving for hours.

‘Having Bella living here with me is so difficult at times, Charles. You wouldn’t believe how selfish she can be,’ Vi confided to her son in a lower tone. ‘I blame that nursery. I never wanted her to go and work there, or marry that Pole. Of course, if your father had been here to put his foot down…’ Fresh tears welled in Vi’s eyes.

‘No one would have stopped me from marrying Jan, Mummy,’ Bella announced, appearing in the open doorway from the hall to the kitchen, obviously having overheard their mother’s comment.

‘Where is that tea, Bella?’ Vi interrupted her.

‘In the kitchen,’ Bella answered her.

‘Oh, really, Bella, I thought you’d have made more of an effort for your brother, and prepared a tea tray for the lounge. This dreadful war is
causing standards to slip dreadfully,’ Vi complained to Charlie.

Charlie fought to conceal his growing irritation. A good stiff drink was what he wanted, not a cup of tea, but he judged it wiser not to say so, not with the old girl almost having turned into a bit of a lush herself after his father had left. It wouldn’t do to fall out with his mother before he’d won her round, gained her sympathy and got some money out of her, and there was no point in falling foul of Bella otherwise she’d set off giving him an ear-bashing.

An hour later, having spent most of that time forced to listen to his mother cataloguing her various grievances, Charlie was beginning to wish that he
had
thought to bring a bottle of army rations gin with him to calm his mother down and put her in the right mood for what he had to tell her.

‘…and I still don’t see why you couldn’t have let Charlie sleep in your bed tonight, Bella, whilst you used the spare room,’ his mother was now berating his sister. ‘He needs a decent night’s sleep after driving up here.’

Scenting an opportunity to deliver his bad news, Charlie assumed a morose, mournful expression and heaved a heavy sigh.

‘Don’t worry about me, Ma. I’ve hardly slept a wink this last week since…’

‘Since what?’ Vi demanded anxiously when Charlie deliberately did not continue.

Charlie shook his head. ‘I don’t want to burden you with my problems, Ma, especially after what
you’ve been through with Dad.’ He paused and waited, and, true to form, just as he had expected she would, his mother immediately pressed him.

‘Charlie, I’m your mother; you must tell me what’s wrong.’

Charlie shook his head and then cleared his throat as though struggling with his emotions.

‘I’m not going to blame Daphne. It isn’t her fault. It’s mine. I should have realised when her cousin let the cat out of the bag about how Daphne had been involved with someone else before she met me, that she might not love me as much as I love her.’

‘So much that you got another girl pregnant whilst you were engaged to her,’ Bella cut in in a sharp voice, earning herself a look of censure from their mother and a rebuking.

‘I won’t have you bringing that up, Bella. If anyone was to blame, it was that dreadful girl.’ Turning back to Charlie, Vi told him firmly, ‘I shouldn’t let it worry you if you and dearest Daphne have had a bit of a tiff, Charlie.’

Trust his mother to be obtuse, Charlie thought impatiently. She’d always been good at not seeing what she didn’t want to see, and making a fuss over bits of something and nothing because it suited her to do so.

‘A bit of a tiff? I wish that it was just that, Ma.’ Charlie stood up and paced the kitchen floor as though in the grip of an intense emotion that was almost too much for him. ‘Like I said, though, I’m not blaming Daphne.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘No, if anyone’s to blame for her turning against me then
it’s her mother. She never really liked me.’ There, that should do it, Charlie reckoned. His mother had never forgiven Daphne’s mother for the way she had behaved over the wedding, treating Vi as though she was a poor relation she’d rather not have known the mother of her daughter’s husband-to-be.

Vi’s reaction was as gratifying as it had been predictable. Her mouth pursed, her bosom swelling with righteous indignation.

‘And who is she when she’s at home, not to like you? You saved her son’s life – well, as good as. It wasn’t your fault that he went overboard again and drowned after you’d rescued him at Dunkirk. Mind you, I have to say that I never really took to her. Well, look at the way she was always interfering and stopping poor Daphne from coming up here. Selfish, that’s what I call it.

‘You must speak to Daphne, though, Charlie, and be firm with her. She’s your wife now, after all.’

Charlie shook his head. ‘It’s too late for that now.’

‘Too late? What do you mean?’ Now Vi was seriously alarmed.

‘Daphne wants a divorce. And the truth is, well, I feel honour bound to agree, especially knowing that—’

‘Knowing what?’ Bella challenged her brother. She knew Charlie far too well to be taken in by the little side show he was putting on for their mother. And besides, being honour bound to do anything simply wasn’t Charlie. If Bella had needed
any confirmation of that she only had to think of the way in which Charlie had stolen her jewellery and then tried to blame the theft on Jan. And, even worse, how he had seduced poor Lena and then deserted her, leaving her pregnant.

Charlie exhaled unevenly.

‘This chap – the chap who Daffers was involved with before me – is a widower now, and it seems that he…that they – well, I’m pretty sure that all Daffers intended to do was to offer him her condolences, since he’s a close neighbour, and that he’s the one to blame for things getting out of hand. She’s not the sort to deliberately…Well, like I said, I can’t and won’t blame her, but the truth is that things have gone further than they should and poor Daffers…’ Charlie paused for effect, and heaved a deep sigh.

Her brother really ought to have gone on the stage, Bella thought grimly.

‘Charles?’ Vi begged.

Charlie took another deep breath. ‘I hate to have to say this but the fact is that they were caught out in a compromising situation and now, for her sake, the sooner this chap is able to make a decent woman of Daffers, the better. Of course I could refuse to co-operate, but – well, when you love someone you want them to be happy, and if the only thing I can give her to show her how much I love her is my agreement to being named as the guilty party in our divorce, to protect her, then that is what I will do.’

There were a dozen probing questions at least that Bella wanted to ask but now wasn’t the time.

Vi, who had half made to stand up, was now sitting back in her chair, one hand placed over her heart, the other clutching the edge of the table for support.

Bella knew how much Charlie’s news would upset her mother, and what a blow it would be to her. Pity for her softened Bella’s awareness of how difficult their mother could be. Charlie’s divorce would be very hard for her to bear, and she would see it as another humiliation on top of the humiliation she had already suffered over their father leaving home to live with his assistant.

Everything that Bella was thinking was confirmed when her mother turned to Charlie and told him, ‘Daphne may have behaved very badly, Charlie, but she is your wife. I shall write to her for you and tell her that, and I shall write to her mother as well…’

The last thing Charlie wanted was his mother getting in touch with Daphne or her family and discovering the truth. Furious with his mother for making things difficult for him, he longed to be able to escape – from her and from the problems she was causing him. As always when he was confronted with an obstacle to his plans, he blamed everyone apart from himself.

‘No! You mustn’t write to Daphne or her parents,’ he began furiously.

‘Why not?’ Vi demanded.

Bella had seen and heard enough. She could tell from Charlie’s expression that things weren’t going the way he had planned and that the situation was going to get very unpleasant unless she did something to avoid that.

‘Mummy, you can’t interfere. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be dignified, or worthy of you. Charlie has just told us that he feels honour bound to let Daphne have her divorce and it is only right that you respect his decision, and be proud of his…his generous and honourable treatment of her.’

Charlie listened to Bella with relief. She certainly knew how to handle their mother.

‘That’s right, Ma,’ Charlie agreed. ‘A man’s honour is very important to him. Especially when he’s in uniform and he’s about to go into action. I’m not saying that I wasn’t tempted to plead with Daffers to change her mind, but a man’s got to be a man – and honourable, of course.’

Charlie was right, Vi acknowledged reluctantly. It was important that he did the right thing, and that he put being honourable above his own feelings. And that would certainly show that stuck-up Mrs Wrighton-Bude, Daphne’s mother, which of their two children knew the right way to behave. How ashamed she must feel having to explain to all her friends – her ‘bridge club set’ – that her daughter had behaved in such a shameful way and her with a husband who loved her, who had saved her brother’s life and who was about to be sent overseas to fight for his country. In her shoes Vi didn’t think she’d have been able to show her face anywhere. She, on the other hand, would be able to tell everyone just how well Charlie had behaved. Poor Charlie, whose heart had been broken.

‘Well, I suppose I shall have to feel sorry for Mrs Wrighton-Bude,’ Vi announced, ‘for having been so shown up by her daughter in such a
dreadful way. She must feel so ashamed, because of course it will reflect on her and the way she has been brought up.’

‘I wanted to come up and tell you rather than send a letter.’ Charlie quickly picked up the ball Bella had set rolling for him, keen to get the most benefit he could from his mother’s sympathy for him. ‘Not that it was easy. All the way up here I kept on thinking that Daphne should be with me…’

‘You’re over-egging the bread,’ Bella warned him in a quiet murmur, but Charlie ignored her, going over to Vi’s chair.

‘These last few weeks have been pure hell, and to make the whole thing even worse, I’ve practically bankrupted myself driving over to see Daphne and her parents and then sorting out…well, everything that needs to be done, so that I can provide the necessary evidence that will enable Daphne to sue me for adultery.’

When Vi shuddered, Charlie assured her untruthfully, ‘It’s all right, Ma. It’s all done very neatly; the solicitor arranges it all. I just have to say that I was at such and such an hotel on such and such a night with a Miss A – even though neither of us was anywhere near the place. Our names will appear in the hotel register and that will be enough. Of course, the whole thing is damnably expensive. More so than if I had actually been guilty of adultery. My solicitor was rather shocked that Daphne’s father hadn’t offered to cover all my expenses, but, well, call it foolish pride, but I couldn’t bring myself to go cap in hand
to him, to ask him to help me out, even though three hundred pounds is nothing to him.’