It was going to be a lovely Christmas, a lovely,
lovely
Christmas. She hugged herself tightly. It was nearly Christmas Eve, and then the next morning Rodney would call for her and see her all dressed up . . . Oh, she couldn’t wait!
She danced out of the bedroom, the suit and scarf over her arm, and then became aware she was grinning broadly at nothing. Eileen would think she’d gone mad. She drew her bottom lip into her mouth and pressed down hard with her teeth. She couldn’t afford to let Eileen see her as anything other than the controlled Miss Brown she had come to know wouldn’t take any nonsense. She had to chivvy the girl along every moment as it was, and last night they hadn’t eaten till gone nine because she had left the maid in charge of preparing their dinner. In fact, she’d better check on her this minute else it would be the same story again tonight.
She took the suit up to her room, laying it on the bed with reverential care, then hurried downstairs to the kitchen, her heart still beating a tattoo of excitement. A bubble of laughter escaped her throat again before she gritted her teeth, composed her face, and opened the kitchen door to see Eileen peeling enough spuds for ten.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Christmas Eve tomorrow, Florrie.’ Rebecca grinned at Florrie as she watched the older woman take their dinner - finny-haddie and baked potatoes, Maggie’s favourite - out of the big oven in the old-fashioned black range. The oven was a bone of contention with Florrie. She kept it spotless herself, but the family upstairs, with whom they shared the kitchen, were less particular, and invariably Florrie had to clean it before she felt happy to use it. Personally she didn’t care about a bit of grease or mess, Rebecca thought now, as Florrie smiled back at her with an, ‘Oh you, you’re worse than a bairn the night,’ and carried on dishing up the meal.
At home, and she still thought of the house she had lived in with Willie for the last four years as home, she had felt driven to remove even the merest speck of dust before it could settle. She’d felt that if she kept the house and all the furniture spotless, the uncleanness she felt in herself would get better.
It hadn’t of course. How could it, when the perpetrator of that uncleanness had had free rein over her body and her mind? But she was free of that now . . . except in her head.
‘Pass them plates that are warming on the hob, lass.’ Florrie’s voice was quiet, her mind preoccupied. Maggie had written Sarah a nice cheerful letter from both of them the day before yesterday, and they’d been feeling cheerful then, but in the space of a few hours today she felt as though she’d had the stuffing knocked out of her. First she’d seen Maud in the grocers when she was getting the taties for dinner, and the other woman had been full of how Matron Cox’s brother had contacted her to ask how her sister was doing.
‘He’s having a terrible time of it with his sister apparently,’ Maud had said complacently. Her own sister was doing fine. ‘Keeps takin’ off, so he tells me, they had to get the law involved the last time. Found her just a few miles away from here, I mean it makes you wonder, don’t it’ - Maud was right, it did make you wonder, and Florrie hadn’t stopped wondering since - ‘an’ then she played up somethin’ rotten when they took her back to him. He’s just about had enough from what I can make out, an’ his poor wife is at the end of her tether. He said they’re gonna get Christmas over an’ then have a think again, but it’s really upset him, poor fella. I suppose he’ll feel responsible if they lock her away again, but I reckon it’s the best thing all round, meself.’
The conversation had left Florrie feeling frightened and slightly nauseous; then on her way home from work that night she’d seen Willie hanging about at the corner of the street. He’d scarpered when he set eyes on her, and just as well, Florrie thought now, her mouth grim, but it didn’t bode well. No, it didn’t bode well at all. Her and Maggie couldn’t keep Rebecca hidden away for ever, the lass would be fed up to the teeth in a day or two, but she didn’t fancy the idea of her leaving the house either.
It was as they were carrying the plates through from the kitchen to the sitting room that the knock came at the front door, and Florrie knew instinctively who it was. ‘You go in there, lass,’ she said quietly as she handed Rebecca Maggie’s plate and opened the sitting-room door, ‘I’ll get that. It’s likely for them upstairs.’
Rebecca nodded, saying, ‘I’ll come back for your plate in a minute, Florrie.’
‘No, you leave it and get on with your dinner. I’ll bring mine through in a minute.’ She waited until the door was shut behind Rebecca before she walked to the front door and opened it.
Willie’s eyes looked behind her, and when he saw she was alone, he said, ‘Took your time, didn’t you.’
‘What do you want?’ Florrie made no pretence at amity.
‘What do you think I want, you stupid bitch—’ And then, as Florrie went to shut the door, he thrust his beefy shoulder against it as he said, ‘Oh no, not this time.’
‘You’d better clear off afore I call the police.’
‘Go on then, go an’ call ’em.’ He knew, and she knew, she wouldn’t do that when he was on the doorstep.
‘I’m going to shut this door—’
‘Not afore I see me wife.’
‘She doesn’t want to see you.’
‘Let her tell me that.’
Florrie heard the door to the sitting room open, and she just prayed it wasn’t Rebecca, but it was Maggie’s voice that said, ‘What’s up, lass?’
‘Shut the door, Maggie.’
Maggie shut it, and quickly, but not before stepping out into the hall herself and joining Florrie on the doorstep, where she glared at Willie and said, ‘I thought we’d seen the last of you. The lass wants nothin’ to do with you, understand?’
‘Says you.’
‘Aye, says me, an’ her an’ all.’ Maggie thumbed at Florrie, and now Willie’s lip curled as he said, ‘An’ you think I’d take any notice of two old bent bitches like you? Queer as a nine-bob note, the pair of you.’
‘What?’ Maggie’s face had gone scarlet with outrage and disbelief, and she glanced at Florrie for a moment, who was looking equally shocked, before turning back to Willie and hissing, ‘You dirty-minded little blighter you. You filthy pig. Florrie’s bin like a daughter to me.’
‘Oh aye, that’s what they all say.’
Quite what Maggie would have done next was anybody’s guess - she looked ready to explode - but in that moment the door to the sitting room opened again, and Rebecca’s voice could be heard saying nervously, ‘Maggie, Florrie? What’s happening?’
The change in Willie’s voice and posture was immediate. ‘Hallo, lass.’ He gestured at Florrie. ‘I was just askin’ her if I could have a word with you, that’s all. I was worried about you.’
‘
Worried about her!
’
Maggie was beside herself, but Rebecca’s hand had gone to her throat as she whispered her husband’s name, her eyes wide and fearful.
‘Please, lass.’ Willie’s expression had taken on the pathos of a puppy waiting to be kicked. ‘Just talk to me a minute, Rebecca, that’s all I’m askin’.’
‘There’s . . . there’s nothing to say.’ But she was nervous, uncertain. She had never seen this side of Willie.
Maggie and Florrie had never seen it either, but they both considered it the best bit of acting they had seen for many a long day.
Florrie went to shut the door again but Willie was too quick for her. ‘Rebecca?’ He reached out his hands in a desolate little gesture as his foot stayed firmly over the threshold. ‘I don’t know what to say, lass, I don’t an’ that’s the truth.’
‘Goodbye will do.’ Maggie’s voice was grim and Willie had a job to keep his expression from changing, but there was too much to lose to do otherwise. But he’d take it out of Rebecca’s hide. By, he would that.
‘I want to talk to me wife a minute, that’s all, Maggie.’
‘All? That’s a sight too much if you ask me, Willie Dalton, an’ I’ve had enough of your foul mouth the night. She wants nothin’ to do with you, so you get your backside home where it belongs an’ leave her alone. You’re nothin’ to her—’
‘Maggie, don’t.’ Rebecca’s voice was tearful, and as it interrupted her flow Maggie turned to look straight into Rebecca’s face.
‘Don’t you see what he’s about, lass? What he’s tryin’ to do?’
He’d got her. Willie could see the indecision on his wife’s face. If he could just keep this up without strangling the pair of interfering old bitches in front of him, he’d got her. He’d always been able to control her. Always.
‘Rebecca, listen to me, lass. I’m nearly goin’ mad without you. Please, lass, come home just over Christmas an’ let’s talk about things. I’m sorry, I’m sorry for how things have been, lass, but it’ll be better now, as God is my witness, it’ll be better. Rebecca, we’re man an’ wife, lass . . . an’ there’s the bairn. Our bairn.’
‘Aye, there’s the bairn. An’ what bairn wants to grow up with a da like you—’
‘
Maggie
.’ Rebecca and Florrie spoke in unison, the one upset and bewildered, the other afraid that Maggie was playing right into Willie Dalton’s hands in making Rebecca feel sorry for him.
Shut up, Maggie. Florrie’s eyes willed her to listen but Maggie was having none of it.
‘It’s the truth, by all that’s holy, it’s the truth - the dirty unnatural swine. His mother knew what she’d spawned, she could never stand the sight of him—’
‘Maggie!’
‘His type aren’t capable of lovin’ anybody, don’t you see, lass? He’s flawed, sick—’
‘Stop it, Maggie.’ Rebecca took a step forward, glancing at Willie who was standing with his head hanging down, his shoulders slumped, but his foot still firmly in the door. ‘I’ll . . . I’ll talk to him. I want to talk to him. It’s all right.’
‘Lass, listen to me—’
‘Maggie, I’m going to talk to him, he is my husband, don’t you see? Please, I have to.’
It was a dismissal, but Florrie had to practically drag Maggie down the hall and into the sitting room, and the minute the door was closed behind the two women, Willie raised his head, his face puckered as though he was going to cry.
‘I don’t know what to say to you, lass, beyond I’m sorry. I’m heart sorry. I must have been mad.’
‘Willie—’
‘No, listen to me, lass. It won’t happen again. There’ll be none of the other business if you come back, I swear it on me mother’s grave. I want us to be a family, you, me an’ the bairn. Please, Rebecca, you can ask me for anythin’ you want, just give me another chance, lass.’
‘I . . . I’ve only ever wanted us to be . . .’ She couldn’t say the word normal, and substituted, ‘happy’ instead.
‘We will be. Give me a chance an’ we will be. Remember when we was courtin’? You was happy then, weren’t you? We got on all right then, didn’t we, lass? I - I know the other isn’t right.’ He lowered his head. ‘But I’m done with that, I swear it. All this has made me see what’s important, lass. Come home.’
And so Rebecca went home. For Christmas. With Willie.
Chapter Fourteen
Christmas Eve dawned bright and bitterly cold, the bare London trees touched with a feathery mantle of frost that melted away once the weak white sunlight took hold.
Sarah had stayed up half the night altering the suit. It hadn’t proved as easy as she had expected - she hadn’t Rebecca’s special knack with a needle and thread - but now it looked just beautiful.
The post brought one last Christmas card for Lady Harris, and a little note from Maggie and Florrie, which she noticed from the postmark had taken three days to arrive. Sarah took it into the kitchen to read, toasting her toes on the boiler as she skimmed through the short letter which simply wished her a happy Christmas and said that they missed her. She suspected they had timed it to arrive that day in case she was feeling a little homesick on her first Christmas away from Sunderland, but what with sewing half the night, and knowing she had a full day at the hospital with the children, she didn’t have time to indulge any heart pangs. But it had been nice of them, lovely, she told herself, their thoughtfulness warming her heart as she made herself toast and tea. She had told Eileen she could have an extra hour in bed that morning, and Eileen being Eileen had stretched the hour into two.