Emma (7 page)

I watched as she walked away, hips swaying. Sheila sounded as if she knew Richard well. Had she been out with him in the past? She had been with a lot of different men. My father hadn’t been making that up. In a small town that kind of behaviour soon led to gossip. Sheila probably wasn’t as innocent as she might be, but I liked her. I believed the warning about Richard Gillows had been given in good faith and without malice.

Later that evening, I lay in bed and thought about what Sheila had told me. It made me all the more certain that I was right to feel the way I did about Richard. His manner had become progressively more possessive throughout the evening. He was obviously beginning to think of me as his girl – but was he planning to ask me to marry him?

The thought sent a shudder down my spine. I didn’t even want to consider it. I couldn’t bear the idea of Richard kissing me the way Paul had. There was always a lingering smell of the railways about Richard, even when he was dressed up: grease or oil or burning. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was but I didn’t much like it.

Paul smelled like a wood after rain. I closed my eyes as I lay back against the pillows, remembering the way he had held me … the way I had wanted to melt into his arms, to surrender my whole self to him.

If I couldn’t have Paul I wouldn’t have anyone, I decided. I certainly wasn’t going to marry Richard. No one could force me to do that, not even my father. I would run away from home first!

But perhaps it was all imagination. Richard hadn’t said anything. He had paid me more attention these past few weeks, but that didn’t mean he wanted to marry me – did it?

Paul was in church that Sunday morning. He took my mother and me home afterwards and stayed for lunch, which was roast beef and lovely, light crispy Yorkshire pudding with lashings of gravy and vegetables.

Mother usually did the cooking and cleaning herself, but since her last illness, she’d had help in the house three mornings a week. On Sunday she left her helper to prepare everything for lunch, apart from the Yorkshire batter, which she made herself and left to stand in a cool place while we attended church.

‘That was delicious,’ Paul complimented her afterwards. ‘I’ve never had Yorkshire pudding like that before. The way my mother’s cook makes it, it’s always soggy and heavy.’

‘Greta is a good cook, I’ll say that for her.’ Father patted his stomach. ‘The trouble is, it tempts me to eat too much and I suffer for it later.’ He glared at my mother as if to blame her for his indigestion.

‘Harold is a martyr to his stomach,’ she said. ‘It’s a shame because he enjoys a good meal.’

‘My father is much the same,’ Paul said. ‘He swears by Carter’s pills. Have you tried them, sir?’

After the table had been cleared, I helped my mother to wash up in the kitchen. I could still hear the men’s voices but it was impossible to make out what they were saying. However, when I returned to the parlour they were drinking a glass of the brandy Paul had brought, and my father seemed to be in a mellow mood.

‘Paul has invited you to a concert in Cambridge next Saturday afternoon,’ he announced. ‘What do you say to that, Emma?’

‘A concert?’ I stared in surprise. ‘It sounds nice.’

‘It will do you good,’ Father said. ‘Improve your mind. Your mother is too busy to come with you, but you may go if you promise to behave yourself.’

‘Of course I shall, Father.’

My heart was racing. Was he really going to let me go alone? And on a Saturday afternoon, which was often our busiest day in the shop?

‘That’s settled, then,’ Paul said. ‘I shall call for you at one. My mother will be pleased to meet you, Emma. And to return the hospitality your parents have so kindly shown me.’

I was puzzled as I took him downstairs shortly afterwards.

‘Are we going to the concert with your mother?’

‘You’ll see.’ He gave me a mysterious look and kissed me briefly on the lips. ‘Just trust me, Emma. Trust me …’

‘I’m going out with a special friend on Saturday,’ I explained to Mrs Henty that Wednesday afternoon. ‘I know I still owe you thirty-five shillings – but could I possibly wear the costume this weekend? I’ll bring it back afterwards and keep paying until I’ve settled in full.’

Mrs Henty hesitated. I knew she wouldn’t normally consider giving credit. She didn’t mind her customers paying weekly, but she always put the goods by until they were paid for. I was about to apologize for asking when she nodded and smiled at me.

‘Seeing as it’s you, Emma, of course you can take it. And you needn’t bring it back. I’ll trust you for the money.’

‘I’ll pay five shillings on Saturday,’ I promised. ‘This is very good of you, Mrs Henty. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to do something for you.’

‘You could always come and work for me. I would be willing to pay you fifteen shillings a week – more when you’d learned the trade.’

‘I wish I could.’ I must have sounded wistful, because she looked at me with sympathy. ‘Father wouldn’t let me, of course.’

‘You’re too useful to him,’ she said and smiled. ‘Wait a few minutes. I’ll pack the costume for you.’

Mother was surprised when I showed her the costume later.

‘I thought you still owed nearly two pounds on that?’

‘Thirty-five shillings. I’ve promised to pay five shillings a week from now on.’

‘Will you be able to manage?’ She looked doubtful. ‘I’ll help you if you can’t – but don’t tell your father you still owe Mrs Henty. He wouldn’t approve.’

‘I couldn’t wear my old costume to meet Paul’s mother, could I?’

‘No, of course not, love – and this one does suit you.’ She reached out to pat my cheek. ‘You can borrow my best cream silk blouse and my pearl earrings. You’ll want to look smart.’

‘I’m so nervous,’ I said. I had thought of nothing else all week. ‘Paul must like me quite a lot, mustn’t he – if he’s taking me to meet his mother?’

‘It does sound promising,’ she admitted, though still looking a little doubtful. ‘I was surprised when he said it. After all, you only met him a few weeks ago.’

I knew she was right. I sometimes felt as if I had known Paul all my life, but it was only a few weeks since he’d come into the shop for the first time, and rather soon for him to be taking me home … unless he was serious about me.

The thought made me tingle all over with excitement. I had tried very hard not to get too excited, not to hope for too much, but I couldn’t stop myself dreaming. I was in love with Paul and it really did seem as though he felt the same.

I couldn’t wait for the weekend to come!

‘How is your friend?’ Sheila Tomms asked when she popped into the shop on Friday morning. ‘The one that looks a bit like Clark Gable – have you seen him recently?’

‘Paul has been busy this week but I’m seeing him this weekend.’ I was glad my father wasn’t in the shop to hear me. He had gone out on business, leaving Ben and I to hold the fort. ‘He came to dinner last Sunday and he’s taking me to meet his mother tomorrow.’

Sheila arched her brows. ‘Sounds promising. Lucky you. I wish I could meet someone like that.’

‘I thought you were going steady with Eric Brown?’

‘I was …’ She pulled a face. ‘We broke up last night.’

‘I’m sorry. What happened – or shouldn’t I ask?’

‘Eric was all right.’ She sighed. ‘We quarrelled over – well, it doesn’t matter. It’s finished and that’s that. I suppose I’ll find someone else.’ She laughed, shaking her hair back from her face with a gesture of defiance. ‘Maybe Richard Gillows. Since you don’t want him – you don’t, do you?’

‘No!’ I made a wry face at her. ‘You can have him and welcome.’

‘Maybe I shall, then.’

Sheila was still laughing as she went out of the shop. I wasn’t sure whether she was serious or joking about Richard.

‘She’s a right caution that one,’ Ben said as the door closed behind her. ‘I’m not surprised she fell out with her bloke. They’re saying as she’s up the spout and it ain’t Eric’s neither.’

‘Ben!’ I gave him a sharp look. ‘I don’t want any of that talk here, thank you. If my father heard you he would sack you immediately.’

‘Lucky he ain’t here then, eh?’

Ben’s cheeky grin made me smile despite myself. I wondered if the story was true. People loved to talk, but the old saying ‘no smoke without fire’ often proved accurate. I felt sorry for Sheila if she was having a baby. There was bound to be gossip in a small town like this, and a lot of people would turn their noses up at her.

I began to tidy the shelves. I did them every morning, but the young lads turned everything over, reading as many of the comics for free as they could and sorting through the box of marbles in the hope of finding one they hadn’t already got in their collections. Some of them weren’t above stealing something if I didn’t keep a sharp eye on them.

‘You sweet on the toff then?’ asked Ben. ‘You want to be careful of his sort, Emma. He’ll have your knickers off soon as look at you.’

‘Ben! I shan’t warn you again about that sort of talk. I’m going to the stockroom. You can call me if you get busy.’

I was frowning as I went into the crowded stockroom. It was packed from floor to ceiling with boxes against the walls, some containing fresh stock but others crammed with forgotten oddments, old papers and paid bills. Father really ought to throw most of this stuff out, I thought, as I looked round at the dust that had accumulated over the years. There was no sense in harbouring rubbish. I’d suggested having a clear out to my father several times, but he always made some excuse.

Opening the top drawer of an old chest, I frowned as I saw the collection of small bottles and pill boxes. What on earth were they? There were so many of them, some of the labels faded and indistinct. I picked one or two out, glancing at the printing on the packaging; they were all remedies for indigestion or stomach trouble. Some of them looked as if they had been there for years. Reading the list of ingredients for one medicine, I was startled to see it contained arsenic.

Surely that was poison? Did Father know what he was taking? He could end up by making himself really ill if he wasn’t careful. It would be so much better if he went to the doctor instead of treating himself in this haphazard way.

‘What are you doing, Emma?’

I jumped as I heard Father’s voice behind me.

‘I was thinking of tidying the stockroom,’ I said. ‘I just happened to look in this drawer and found these. You’ve had some of these pills for ages, Father. Don’t you think you should throw them away and ask the doctor for something to settle your stomach?’

‘Who asked you to pry into my affairs?’ He glared at me. ‘When I want your advice I’ll ask for it – until then keep out of here and leave things alone. If I wanted this place sorted I would do it myself.’

‘Yes, Father.’

I turned away, cheeks flaming. Why did he always have to be so harsh? I had only been trying to help. I was upset and annoyed with him for being the way he was, and yet couldn’t help feeling concern. He was my father, even if he didn’t show me any real affection. Sometimes I felt like leaving home, but I didn’t wish him any harm, and I certainly didn’t want him to poison himself with those pills.

I spoke to my mother about the pills when I went up to have my meal later.

‘I’m sure he ought not to be taking half of them,’ I said. ‘One of the bottles has a label that says the preparation contains arsenic. I thought that was poison?’

‘It is.’ She gave me an odd look. ‘Are you sure you read the label right?’

‘Yes.’ I frowned. ‘I read something once in a book about people taking small doses of arsenic as a medicine, but I can’t remember what it was supposed to cure.’

‘Folk used all sorts years ago,’ Mother said. ‘No one goes to the doctor if they can help it. Harold is always looking for something different to cure his own troubles. I suppose he knows what he’s doing. I’ve never been able to tell him anything. If I had my way he would go to the doctor, but you know what he is.’

‘It just seems so silly, Mum.’ I looked at her and sighed. ‘Ben said he thought Sheila Tomms might be having a baby. Have you heard anything?’

‘No, I haven’t – but it wouldn’t surprise me. She’s a silly girl, Emma. If she carries on the way she is no one will marry her. I’ve seen what happens to her sort before and I’d have thought she’d have more sense.’

‘I feel sorry for her if it’s true.’

‘So do I,’ Mother admitted. ‘Her mother won’t be able to help her much. She will probably have to go away where no one knows her. Her life will be a misery if she stays round here. You’ve heard the way they gossip. She’ll lose her job for starters.’

‘I wonder who the father is? If it’s true, that is.’

‘Goodness knows. Let’s just hope he decides to do the decent thing and marry her!’

I found it difficult to sleep that night. It was partly excitement, but other things kept running through my mind – like those pills in Father’s drawer. Why did he leave them there and not in his bedroom? And why buy a medicine that contained a dangerous substance?

I couldn’t answer either question so tried thinking about something else.

Was Sheila pregnant – and if so, who was the father?

Why did she keep mentioning Richard? Making out she didn’t like him much one minute, then saying she was going to go out with him the next?

It didn’t matter. I turned over and closed my eyes, making a conscious effort to get to sleep. If I lay here thinking all night, I would have shadows under my eyes in the morning, and I wanted to look my best for Paul.

Paul brought flowers for my mother when he collected me the next day – a beautiful bouquet of scented roses and lilies, which must have come from a high-class florist and which were obviously expensive.

‘To say thank you.’ He smiled as he presented them, then turned to me. ‘You look lovely, Emma. That colour suits you – you should wear it more often.’

I thanked him, feeling both nervous and excited as I went out to the car with him. Would his parents like me? Would they think me suitable for their son?

‘Where is the concert being held?’ I asked as he drew away from the kerb. ‘I’ve never been to one before. I’m afraid I don’t know much about music – not classical music anyway.’