Emma (14 page)

‘You can get on upstairs,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll call you if we’re busy.’ I turned away but waited as he began to speak again. ‘I’m glad you were sensible. Richard is a decent man. He’ll make you a good husband.’

‘Will he?’ My tone was flat, emotionless. I had been feeling numb since giving Richard my answer.

‘You’ll see. I know you are angry with me for forcing you into it but everything will turn out for the best. Richard will live here with us. He can help out with some of the heavier jobs when he’s not on a shift. It will make things easier all round.’

‘Yes, Father. If you say so.’ He gave me an odd look, as if he didn’t quite believe my submissive manner; then put his hand in his pocket and brought out ten pounds. ‘You’ll have things to buy for the wedding. I’ll be paying for the reception, so don’t expect anything more. You’re lucky to get this after the way you’ve behaved.’

‘Thank you. I’m sure the money will be useful.’

I turned away and went out. At the moment there was no defiance left in me. The realisation that I would probably never see Paul again, that he had never loved me, was just beginning to sink in. I had been too shocked and upset at first to do anything but cry. Now I was thinking and it hurt. I felt stupid and used. I had been such a naive fool, and I wasn’t unintelligent. I ought to have had more sense.

My moods seemed to fluctuate between anger and shame. It really stung to know that I had been so easy. Paul must have thought it a great joke. How he must have laughed!

How could he? How could he have done this to me? Why had he bothered? It must have seemed like a game to him, a challenge that had lost its interest once I’d been silly enough to give him what he wanted. I remembered his annoyance because I had cried. He had decided that I was just a stupid country girl and had broken it off quickly, before he got caught out.

I wished I could hate him. He deserved that I should, but my foolish heart still ached for him.

Going into my bedroom, I opened my letter. It was from Jonathan Reece. I had expected it would be, though a part of me had hoped for a minute that it might have been Paul. Foolish, foolish thought! Paul wasn’t going to write to me. He had left me without a backward glance.

Dear Emma
, Jonathan had written.
I hope you don’t mind me calling you that? I just wanted to apologise for not coming last weekend. My uncle died suddenly and …

Paul’s father had died! My heart took a flying leap. Surely that meant Paul would come home? If Jonathan had told him I was … The hope died in me almost as soon as it was born. Paul didn’t want to marry me. He wouldn’t have gone off the way he had if he had cared for me.

I finished reading Jonathan’s letter, then sat looking at the ten pounds he had sent me. He promised there would be more next month and every following month. What ought I to do about it? I still had most of the money he’d lent me the afternoon we had met at Paul’s home. Should I give it back now that I was to be married? I didn’t really need it – but was it mine by right?

Folding the letter carefully, I hid it at the very back of my dressing table drawer. I would keep the money for the time being but write to Jonathan Reece and tell him I was to be married.

As I closed the drawer, I caught sight of my pale face in the mirror. Was that me? It didn’t look like me – but then, I wasn’t the same girl anymore. The old Emma would never have agreed to marry a man she didn’t love.

For a moment I felt a surge of despair. How could I marry Richard? It was wrong and unnatural. I would do better to run away than agree to this marriage. Yet I knew that was impossible. Mother could never work in a shop or a factory, and I wasn’t sure I could earn enough to keep both of us and a child. Even if Paul continued to send money it would be hard – and there would always be the threat of discovery hanging over our heads.

Was I a coward to take the easy way out? I would have liked to consult Gran, but Father had banned me from visiting her.

‘When you’re married you can go,’ he had told me. ‘Until then you will stay in this house – unless Richard takes you somewhere.’

‘He won’t have time. He’s working extra hours for the next couple of weeks so that he can take me for a holiday.’

I hadn’t been able to bring myself to use the word honeymoon. Sometimes, when I allowed myself to think what it would be like being married to Richard, I felt sick. How could I lie in his arms and let him do what Paul had done?

Yet perhaps it didn’t matter. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. My senses were dulled. I felt as if my life were over. None of my dreams were ever going to come true, so I might as well let Richard and my father have their way.

I might even die when the child came. Women often did. Why not me?

‘Your mother told me what was going on here.’ Gran came puffing up the stairs that Sunday afternoon. ‘You haven’t been to see me, so I decided I’d best come to you.’

‘I am sorry, Gran.’ I hugged her. ‘Father wouldn’t let me. I think he’s afraid I might run away.’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘No, not now. I thought about it, but it wouldn’t be sensible.’

‘What has being sensible got to do with it?’

‘Did Mum tell you about the baby? Richard knows but still wants to marry me.’

‘And what do you want?’

‘Nothing I can have.’

‘Still mooning over that rogue?’ She frowned at me. ‘Tell Richard you’ve changed your mind. It’s not too late to get rid of the child. It would have been better if you’d come to me sooner but if we’re careful—’

‘No! I don’t want to kill my baby, Gran.’

‘I was afraid of that.’ She shook her head over it. ‘You’re too soft-hearted, lass.’

‘You won’t change her mind,’ Mother said, bustling in with a tray of tea. ‘Harold went wild at first, but he’ll not make things too hard for her as long as he needs her in that shop. And who knows, it may turn out for the best.’

‘You always did talk nonsense!’ Gran gave her a sharp look. ‘What’s going on in your head, Greta? I know you and your schemes.’

‘Nothing important.’ Mother smiled at me. ‘I want what’s best for Emma, that’s all. She is entitled to more than she’s had so far, but things won’t always be this way.’

‘Neither of you will get much while Harold’s around.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Her smile was serene, mysterious. ‘None of us wanted this to happen but it has. We’ve just got to make the best of a bad job,’ she said, an odd glint in her eyes. ‘I’ve put up with his temper and meanness for years, but I shan’t anymore.’

‘What do you mean?

I looked at my mother in surprise. She wasn’t exactly smiling but she did seem … satisfied. Yes, that was the right word.

‘I just shan’t, that’s all.’

A look passed between her and Gran that puzzled me, but then it was gone and I thought I had imagined it.

I was relieved my mother had stopped wearing that haunted, frightened expression, but I couldn’t help wondering why.

I stood at the window, looking out at the back yard, with its washing lines and tubs of summer flowers. Beyond it was Mother’s garden, where roses bloomed in profusion. Today was my wedding day and the sun was already high in the sky, not a cloud to be seen. It was going to be really beautiful by the time we left for church.

I turned to glance at the dress hanging on the front of the wardrobe. It was so pretty! All shiny and white. I touched it with reverent fingers. I’d never worn anything like this, and knew it looked just right on me, though I felt a little guilty about wearing it: white was meant for virgins, wasn’t it?

‘How do you feel?’ Mother’s voice from the doorway startled me, making me swing round hurriedly. She smiled at me. ‘Don’t worry, love. I was nervous on my wedding morning but I soon got over it. Richard is a better man than your father ever was, believe me.’

‘Is he?’ I felt a panicky sensation in my stomach. I looked at her in silent appeal, hoping against hope that she would say something to make me feel better, yet knowing there was nothing she could say. ‘He has been really nice to me since I said I’d marry him.’

‘He’s fond of you,’ my mother said. ‘If not, I’d tell you to run off to London, Emma. Harold might create hell, but I doubt if he would follow you.’

I turned the pretty little cluster ring on my finger. It was set with pearls and tiny rose diamonds. Richard had given it to me when we’d sat in church together, to hear the banns read out for the first time.

‘We don’t want people thinking I’m too mean to give you a ring, do we?’ he’d said. ‘I hope it fits, but you can wind a bit of cotton round it if it slips, can’t you?’

It had fitted perfectly. I liked the ring and the simulated pearl beads Richard had sent me as a wedding present. He had been generous with his gifts, and was also taking me to Yarmouth for a week in a hotel for our honeymoon.

‘And why shouldn’t he be nice to you?’ Mother smiled and kissed my cheek. ‘He loves you, Emma. You’ve been honest with him from the start and he’s accepted you made a mistake. If he still wants to marry you he must think the world of you. Why else would he marry you?’

‘He keeps telling me he loves me,’ I said, looking at her doubtfully. Some of the tension drained out of me. There really was no reason for him to marry me if he didn’t, was there? ‘You do like him, don’t you, Mum? I know Gran thinks I shouldn’t marry him.’

‘Take no notice of your Gran, love. She means well but she doesn’t understand how difficult your father would have made things for you if you’d refused to take Richard. I think it’s the best thing you can do in the circumstances.’

I nodded. Mother seemed almost serene these days. There was an air of contentment about her. Why? What had changed? Certainly not Father’s temper. He seemed to get more irritable every day. I suspected he was having trouble with his stomach again.

‘I’ll leave you to get dressed,’ Mother said. ‘Your father will be up for his breakfast in a few minutes. He’s fretting over leaving Ben alone in the shop this afternoon, but he wouldn’t listen when I told him to shut the place for once, so he’ll have to bear the consequences.’

‘I think he doesn’t always feel well,’ I said. ‘But he insists it’s nothing but wind and gets cross if I mention it.’

‘Feeling sorry for him?’

‘No.’ I met her eyes. ‘I used to think he ought to see a doctor but now I don’t care. If he won’t spare the time for the treatment he needs it’s his own fault.’

‘It’s only indigestion. If he ate more slowly – or a bit less – he wouldn’t suffer so much. It is his own fault. He’s brought it on himself. He should go to the doctor.’

‘Yes, he should.’

As my mother went out, I sat down at the dressing table and began to take out the grips I’d used to pin my hair up the previous night. I was lucky in having a natural wave in the front, but wanted it to fluff out a little for the wedding photographs.

I thought about Father. It couldn’t be very pleasant being in pain a lot of the time, and he certainly was. I’d noticed him grimacing on several occasions recently.

But he deserved to suffer for the way he’d treated my mother! My heart hardened against him as I began to brush my hair into soft waves and curls. If he hadn’t been such a tyrant I wouldn’t have been marrying Richard Gillows. At least not yet. I could have thought about it more, decided what I wanted to do.

If I was unhappy it would be his fault!

My breath caught as Richard slipped the wide gold band on my finger. He smiled at me and I felt a flutter of nerves in my stomach. Until this moment it had all seemed like one of the stories I read before I went to sleep at night; I’d half expected to wake up and find it was all a bad dream.

Oh, Paul. Paul, I love you!

I smothered the cry from my heart as I walked out of church with my hand on my husband’s arm. The sun was shining brightly and it was very warm. I could smell the scent of roses and lilies from my bouquet, hear the loud pealing of the bells. The bells were ringing so loudly that I couldn’t hear what Richard was saying to me. I leaned my head towards him, trying to catch the words.

‘I said you look beautiful, Emma. I can’t wait to be alone with you.’

I nodded, trying not to think of what would happen once the reception was over and we left to begin our honeymoon. We were staying at a hotel in Ely overnight and catching a train to the coast early in the morning.

‘I love you, Emma.’

I smiled up at him. It was time to forget my dreams. Paul had never loved me. I had to start fresh. Mother was right. I must try to make a go of my marriage. I looked up into his eyes.

‘Can you forgive me – for what I did?’

‘It’s over,’ he promised. ‘Just be good to me, love, that’s all I ask.’

‘I will,’ I said. ‘I will. I promise.’

The photographer called everyone to order.

‘Smile please. Look this way, Mrs Gillows. We want nice, happy pictures, don’t we?’

Everyone had gathered in the churchyard. I looked round for my mother. She was standing just to the left of Father. He was rubbing at his stomach. He said something to Mother; she took a small box out of her bag and gave it to him.

‘Now the bride’s parents,’ the photographer said, waving at them enthusiastically. ‘A nice big group – and you, Mrs Jacobs. Come on, everyone – smile, please!’

Father stood next to me for the picture. I heard his stifled groan and glanced at him anxiously. He really was in a lot of pain.

‘Are you all right?’

‘A touch of wind,’ he muttered. ‘It’ll pass.’

I nodded, smiled for the camera again, then felt Richard take my arm and push me towards the cars waiting to take us to the reception in a small local hotel.

‘I think my father is ill,’ I said as we dodged the deluge of confetti and got into the back of the first car. ‘He was in pain just now.’

‘He’ll be all right,’ Richard said and reached out for me as the car drew away from the kerb. ‘Give me a kiss. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.’

When his arms closed round me I felt trapped. I wanted to push him away and jump out of the car, but of course I couldn’t. His mouth was eager, demanding. He seemed to take without giving – but what else could I expect? I let him kiss me, staying perfectly still until he let me go and sat back.