Without Sin (31 page)

Percy blinked. ‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.’

Meg lifted her shoulders. ‘I’d’ve thought it stood to reason that the doctor would invite them. They’re such prominent figures in the town. Or so we were led to believe,
weren’t we?’

Percy looked worried. ‘Well, yes. I suppose you’re right. Perhaps it would be rather awkward if they were there too.’

‘Of course it would. And we wouldn’t want anything to spoil the doctor’s wedding day, would we?’

‘No, no, of course not.’

‘Then I think it better if we politely decline owing to business commitments. They know that the shop is always open on a Saturday.’

‘I suppose so.’ But Percy was still frowning anxiously.

Meg patted his arm. ‘Don’t let it worry you. You can explain to the doctor when you see him. He’ll understand.’

She turned away, a satisfied smile on her lips, knowing that once more she had got her own way.

On the day of the wedding not one customer entered the shop and Percy fretted. ‘We could have gone. We should have gone.’

‘It’s too late now,’ Meg said briskly, carefully folding a pair of ladies’ bloomers. She was amused to see Percy averting his gaze. ‘I expect there are a lot of our
customers at the wedding if the number of hats I’ve been asked for this last two weeks is anything to go by. Really, Percy, we should begin to stock hats, you know. We’d do a brisk
trade, I’m sure.’

‘Mm.’ Percy’s mind was elsewhere.

‘And it’s so hot today. We never get many customers when it’s such good weather. They stay indoors out of the heat.’

Percy glanced out the window at the bright, sunlit street. ‘At least she’s got a nice day for her wedding,’ he murmured. ‘She’s lucky after all the rain we’ve
had recently.’

‘Yes,’ Meg said flatly. Deep in her heart, she was envious of Louisa. The doctor was a good catch and young and handsome too. And he was kind. It would be very easy to fall in love
with Dr Philip Collins. Meg’s eyes had a faraway look.

If she hadn’t met him in the workhouse, if she hadn’t been wearing that awful, degrading uniform, then perhaps . . .

‘Do you want to go home, my dear? I can manage here.’

‘Yes, I will.’ Meg dragged herself back from her daydreaming and flashed him a brilliant smile, the smile that had bowled him over and still did. ‘I’ve some shopping
I’d like to do and then I’ll go home and cook your favourite meal.’

She knew that the day would end with Percy’s awkward lovemaking. But she could always pretend . . .

Back from his honeymoon and looking fit and not so tired as he normally did, Dr Collins called into the shop. Meg hurried towards him and held out her hands. She smiled and
kissed him swiftly on both cheeks. Philip seemed a little startled and the colour crept into his face.

‘We were so sorry not to be able to attend your wedding. You do understand, don’t you? It would have meant closing the shop. I tried to persuade Percy to come alone, but he
wouldn’t hear of it.’

‘Of course not,’ Philip murmured, his gaze still upon her face, her hands still in his.

She leant closer, sharing a confidence. ‘And it might have been very embarrassing if Miss Finch had been there. We didn’t want anything to spoil your lovely day.’

Before Philip could answer, Percy came through from the back room, a tape measure dangling round his neck, pins sticking out from his lapel. ‘Doctor – Philip – how are you? Did
you enjoy your – er – honeymoon?’

Meg pulled her hands away.

‘Yes, thank you. We went to the Lake District. The weather was perfect. It didn’t rain once.’

Percy gave a small, embarrassed laugh. ‘That’s unusual for there, so they tell me. I mean, I’ve never been.’

‘You should go, Percy. Take Meg. It would do you both good.’

Percy shook his head, glancing away. ‘Oh, I – we – couldn’t leave the shop.’

‘I’ve explained to Philip,’ Meg said, forcing gaiety into her tone as, boldly, she used the doctor’s Christian name for the first time – Percy did, she told
herself, so why shouldn’t she, as his wife? – ‘why we could not attend the wedding.’

‘Yes, yes, we were very sorry.’

‘We were too.’ The doctor’s glance rested on Meg again. ‘Especially Louisa. She particularly wanted you there, Meg, even if you didn’t feel able to be her matron of
honour.’

‘What?’ Mystified, Percy glanced from one to the other.

‘Louisa asked Meg to be her matron of honour.’

‘Oh, Meg,’ Percy was reproachful. ‘Why ever did you refuse? That was a great favour Miss Daley was bestowing upon you.’

Meg thought quickly and then she put her hands to her face, her eyes wide with surprise above them. ‘Oh no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t believe him.’ She turned from one to
the other. ‘I thought Jake was teasing. You know what a tease he can be. Well, perhaps you don’t. But – but Miss Daley – Louisa – didn’t come herself. Nor even
you, Philip, and I never thought for a moment it was true. Oh, how dreadful! What must she think of me?’

Tears filled her eyes and she covered the whole of her face with her hands, peeping between her fingers to gauge their reaction.

Philip put his arm about her awkwardly and she pretended to sob against his shoulder. ‘Please, don’t distress yourself. There’s obviously been a misunderstanding. I see it now.
We should have come ourselves. Not sent messages. Don’t think about it any more. Tell you what,’ he said, brightly, ‘you must both come and have dinner with us one evening. After
the shop has closed. There, what do you say?’

Meg pulled back a little and smiled tremulously, looking up into his face. ‘You’re so kind to me. I don’t deserve it.’

His gaze was on her face. Seeing the tears shimmering in her eyes, her soft mouth trembling, the just-married young doctor was appalled to find that at that moment he wanted nothing more than to
kiss that mouth. To gather this young girl into his arms and hold her close.

With a leap backwards, he snatched his arm away, as if the touch of her ignited something in him that made him tremble with fear and longing. ‘That’s fine, then. I’ll –
I’ll speak to Louisa about it. And – and we’ll arrange something.’

But the invitation to dine with the doctor and his bride never arrived. Percy was disappointed and, though he never voiced it, Meg felt he blamed her. More than once she caught him looking at
her, reproach in his eyes.

‘So, what do you think, missis? Will she do?’

Betsy had been at Middleditch Farm for over a month now and Jake was eager to know if the mistress planned to keep her. Already the thin, wan child was blossoming into a healthy young girl, with
a bloom on her smooth cheeks and new roundness to her body. And all day long Betsy had a sparkle in her eyes, the sparkle of real happiness. Jake couldn’t know – wasn’t conceited
enough for the thought ever to cross his mind – that Betsy’s happiness had as much to do with his nearness as with her new life.

Mrs Smallwood, her back to him as she kneaded bread dough on the kitchen table, took a moment to answer, whilst Jake’s heart began to drop. ‘Aye,’ she said at last.
‘She’ll do.’

‘Aw, missis, thanks.’ Jake put his arms around the woman’s waist and rested his head against her back. ‘You don’t know what it’ll mean to Betsy.’

‘Oh, go on with you, you daft ha’porth.’ She waved him away, wafting flour into the air. ‘I just hope I’m not bringing trouble on myself having you two under the
same roof.’ Her voice dropped as she muttered, ‘As if I haven’t had enough in my time already.’

Jake stepped back, hurt by her insinuation. He moved round the table to face Mabel. ‘I’d never do anything to hurt Betsy. She’s like a little sister to me. Always has
been.’

Mabel eyed him wryly. ‘Really. Well, I don’t think that’s how she sees you. As a brother, I mean.’

Jake blinked. ‘Eh?’

With fond impatience, Mabel said, ‘She’s besotted with you, lad. She idolizes you.’ Pointedly, she added, ‘And I wouldn’t want to see you taking advantage of the
lass.’

Gaping at her, still unable to believe what he was hearing, Jake shook his head. Hoarsely, he said, ‘I wouldn’t, missis. I promise you I wouldn’t.’

‘Mm,’ Mabel’s tone still held doubt. ‘Mm, well, let’s hope so.’

Recovering a little, Jake asked, ‘So you’re going to keep her on?’

Mabel nodded. ‘If she carries on as she is now and – she behaves herself – then yes, I’m keeping her on.’

‘Can I – can I tell her?’

Now Mabel smiled one of her rare smiles. ‘Aye, all right then.’

‘Just one thing—’

‘What is it now? More favours?’

Jake grinned. ‘I suppose so, yes. It’s Betsy’s birthday next week – on the fifteenth of September. She’s fourteen. Would you make her a cake? I don’t reckon
she’s ever had a birthday cake in her life.’ He didn’t add that he hadn’t either. ‘They didn’t do that sort of thing in the workhouse.’

Mabel stared at him. Into her mind flashed the pictures of her own daughter. Alice at five, six, seven and then – jumping the years – at fourteen, blowing out the candles on her
cake, surrounded by her friends. First little girls from school and then bigger, older girls as they all grew up together, filling the farmhouse with their chatter and laughter.

‘Aye.’ Mabel’s voice was husky. ‘I’ll make her a cake. It’s on a Sunday, so we’ll have a surprise party for her. Don’t you go telling her,
though.’

His eyes shining, Jake shook his head at the wonder of it all. Just how had workhouse brats like him and Betsy fallen on their feet like they had? ‘You’re a good ’un,
missis.’

‘So get your thinking cap on and decide who you’re going to invite. Kids from the workhouse, I suppose.’

Jake wrinkled his forehead. ‘Maybe one or two, but I reckon she’d like Miss Daley, I mean Mrs Collins, to come. And the matron. Miss Pendleton was always kind to her.’

‘Aye well, invite who you like lad.’ She looked up sharply. ‘As long as it’s not
her
. I won’t have that girl in my house.’

Jake’s heart was heavy. Without her name being mentioned, he knew she was referring to Meg. ‘No,’ he said sadly. ‘She wouldn’t come anyway.’

‘Good job an’ all,’ Mabel muttered, as she pounded the dough almost as if she wished it was Meg’s head beneath her strong hands.

Jake didn’t hurry out of the kitchen in search of Betsy. He walked slowly, deep in thought. Was it really true what the missis had said? Did little Betsy really like him? A smile began at
the corners of his mouth and spread slowly into a broad grin. He squared his shoulders and felt as if he had grown an inch as he went in search of her.

‘Now, you’ve got to blow out all the candles at once and make a wish. That’s what my mam used to tell me to do when I was a little girl.’

Letitia was enjoying herself. Her round face was red from the heat in the farmhouse kitchen and with pleasure in the day. She was sitting between Jake and little Betsy – her two favourite
children from the workhouse. Though Betsy wasn’t so little any more. She’d filled out and looked so happy and contented that it brought tears to the matron’s eyes. And as for her
beloved Jake – it was taking her all her time not to keep putting an arm around him and hugging him to her – he was growing into such a handsome young man. A son that any mother would
be proud of.

I haven’t done such a bad job with these two
, she thought. Though a workhouse was not the ideal place for children to grow up in, she’d always done her best for all the little
ones. Tried to be the mother to them that they’d lost. Tried to take their mother’s place. Especially with Jake . . . And now look at their happy, healthy, smiling faces. The sight
brought a lump to her throat and tears to her eyes, but she dashed them away impatiently and said again, ‘Come on, Betsy, all at one blow.’

Pink with excitement and happiness, Betsy took a deep breath and blew and everyone around the table clapped: Philip and Louisa Collins, two younger girls from the workhouse, the matron, Ron with
his wife and their children, Mr and Mrs Smallwood and, most important of all to Betsy, Jake. They had each given her a little gift: a hair ribbon, a lace handkerchief, and a brush-and-comb set. The
two younger girls had picked bunches of wild flowers on their way to the farm. Jake had given her a prayer book to carry on Sunday mornings now that they were both expected to attend church with
the Smallwoods. She would treasure that most of all because it came from him. But the best gift of all was this party.

‘Put your bridesmaid’s dress on for your tea,’ Jake had urged her earlier in the day.

‘Oh, I couldn’t. It’s far too grand. I’d get it messed up helping the missis get the tea ready.’

‘I’ll help her today. It’s your birthday. You can just sit and look pretty in your posh dress and watch.’

‘But what will the missis think? What will she say?’

‘Oh, I’ll make it right with her,’ Jake said vaguely, knowing already that it was fine with Mrs Smallwood. They had planned it together.

‘How are we going to get her to dress up in her finery?’ Mabel had asked and it had been Jake’s idea that he should make out he would help with the tea whilst Betsy had a
little time off on her special day.

Now, as she cut the cake with Mabel’s help, Betsy was thinking:
I’ll never have another party better than this. Not as long as I live, I won’t
. She glanced up and caught
Jake watching her. The fact that he was there, that they were living and working together, made her life perfect.

Modest, unassuming little Betsy dared not hope for any greater happiness.

After tea they played party games in the parlour. Blindfolding Betsy, Jake spun her round and she moved carefully around the room, arms outstretched, trying to find Jake and have an excuse to
put her arms around him.

They almost didn’t hear the knock at the back door for their noisy laughter.

‘I’ll go,’ Mr Smallwood said, heaving his bulky frame out of the easy chair.

Philip grimaced. ‘It’ll be for me, I expect.’ So it was no surprise that George’s glance went directly to the doctor when he came back into the room.

‘It’s old Albert from the workhouse.’ He glanced at his wife before saying. ‘He ses Sarah Kirkland’s very ill.’