A Cuckoo in Candle Lane (28 page)

‘Oh Lottie, with all that’s happened I almost forgot. Thank you for my birthday present, it’s lovely and as you can see I’ve got it on already,’ Sally said, turning to give a twirl, her arms outstretched.

‘Yes, it’s a nice blouse and I’m glad you like it.’

‘I’m sorry to break this up, girls,’ John interrupted, ‘but we had better go and face the dragon.’

‘Dragon! What on earth do you mean?’ Lottie laughed.

‘I mean Sally’s mum,’ he answered, grinning widely.

‘Hey, my mum’s not a dragon, John,’ she protested.

‘Well, she certainly breathes fire when I’m around. You wait and see.’

‘No,’ Lottie protested. ‘I’m sure she’ll be as delighted as I am. Goodbye, Sally. I’ll see you tomorrow, my dear.’

But John was right; her mother’s face was red with anger. ‘What do you mean, get married in May? That’s only three months away.’ Ruth shook her head. ‘No, Sally, it’s far too soon. You told me you’d wait until you were eighteen.’

They told her about the flat, watching as she huffed and puffed with agitation, suiting John’s description.

After much persuasion she finally calmed down, looking almost ready to give in, and saying, ‘But how can we prepare for a wedding in such a short time, Sally?’

‘Mum, we don’t want any fuss. Just a quiet wedding, and perhaps a small tea-party afterwards with family and a few close friends.’

‘But I’ve always dreamed of seeing you in a lovely white dress with a long veil, flowers in yer hair and …’ she trailed off, her eyes dreamy.

‘We can’t afford a big do, Mum, and a wedding dress would be a waste of money. I thought a nice cream suit and perhaps one of those pretty pillbox hats.’

‘At least tell me it’ll be a church service,’ she said hopefully.

John, after a quick glance at Sally, smiled reassuringly at her mother. ‘Yes, Mrs Marchant. I’ll have a word with our vicar. I’m sure he’ll be happy to perform the ceremony.’

‘Hmm, that’s something, I suppose. I wouldn’t ’ave wanted you to get married in a registry office.’

‘But, Mum, you never go to church – why is it so important to you?’

‘I dunno, Sal, it just seems more real somehow. Yer dad and me got married in a registry office and it was over so quickly I didn’t ’ave time to draw breath. I just want something better for you, that’s all.’

‘Ken isn’t my father,’ Sally reminded her.

‘I know that,’ she snapped. ‘And you won’t ’ave anyone to give you away either.’

Sally’s thoughts raced. ‘I could ask Bert.’

Her mother flopped onto a fireside chair. ‘Yeah, Bert would do it,’ she murmured.

‘Please, Mum, say yes,’ Sally begged.

Drumming her fingers on the wooden arms of the chair, Ruth stared into the fire, finally heaving a sigh and saying, ‘All right, Sally. If this is what you really want, I won’t stand in yer way.’

T
he weeks seemed to fly past. March turned into April and Sally’s wedding was only a month away. She had found the perfect outfit in Oxford Street, a cream suit with a Chanel-style box jacket and straight skirt ending just below her knees. She had even managed to find a matching pillbox hat decorated with a wisp of net that just covered her forehead.

Changing the heavy shopping bag over to her other hand and panting with exertion, she hurried to the flat. Nelly had been having a sort-out and had given her a lovely tea-set, insisting that she never used it, along with an unused pink quilt, still in its wrapping. She pictured it on the bed and knew it would fit perfectly with the décor. John had painted the walls magnolia and the colour blended well with the pink chintz curtains left behind by the last tenants. Now she was anxious to put the quilt on the bed and to hang the freshly washed curtains, before John turned up later to finish decorating the bathroom.

The smell of fresh paint was strong as she let herself into the flat, hurrying along the hall, a happy grin on her face as she anticipated John’s surprise when he saw the finishing touches to the bedroom. She flung open the door, the smile still on her lips, and froze.

At first she couldn’t comprehend the sight that met her eyes. There were two heads on the pillows, two bodies, their limbs entwined amongst the jumble of sheets on the bed. What were they doing?
No, no, this can’t be
, her mind screamed. Bile rose in her throat and she dropped the shopping bags, covering her mouth as she stared at the scene in horror. Two faces stared back over their shoulders – both male.

‘Sally, wait!’ John shouted as her legs unfroze and she bolted back down the hall. ‘Let go of me, Larry, I must go after her,’ she heard him cry in agitation.

She was going to be sick; she had to get out of there. Wrenching open the door in panic, she ran wildly down the stairs, her heel catching on a piece of loose carpet, twisting her foot painfully. Losing her balance she toppled forward, hands flailing as she tried to grab the banister, her scream cut off abruptly as she hit the hard hall tiles.

Sally regained consciousness, feeling confused and lethargic, aware of a sharp pain every time she drew breath. Slowly she realised there were people in the room, talking softly, and it was Lottie’s agitated tone that penetrated her clouded mind.

‘We’ve got to keep her quiet, John. If this comes out you’ll be ruined.’

‘Calm down, Auntie. I’ll make up some sort of excuse – I’m sure I can handle her.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, John. She might be young and sexually inexperienced, but she saw what was going on. This isn’t something you can just explain away. My God, all the years we’ve spent building an image of respectability will be wiped out.’

‘Oh Lottie, do stop worrying. Now please, just let me think, will you!’

Sally squeezed her eyes shut, listening to his footsteps as he paced the room, her mind a jumble of pain, hurt and disgust. How could I have been so blind? she berated herself. It was obvious now that John had never loved her; he had just used her to cover up his homosexuality. They were talking again … discussing her.

‘I’ve got an idea, Lottie,’ John said. ‘I’ll tell her that Larry’s an old friend and we both had too much to drink. It was very late and he was in no condition to drive, so rather than disturb you, we bunked down in the flat.’

‘Yes, it might work. But what exactly did she see when she barged in on you?’

It was too much for Sally and she sat up, gasping at the stabbing pain in her ribs. They were in Lottie’s bedroom, she realised in confusion, wondering how she had got there.

‘Sally, don’t get up, the doctor’s on his way. You’ve had a nasty fall,’ John said, rushing to her side.

‘Don’t touch me!’ she recoiled. Then, moving painfully to the other side of the bed, she eased her feet to the floor and yelped, quickly raising her left leg.

‘Sally, you must sit down. Your ankle is terribly swollen and it might be broken,’ Lottie admonished, taking hold of her arm.

‘Leave me alone,’ she sobbed, trying to stand again, but finding it impossible. Oh God, she cried inwardly, sinking back onto the bed. Please help me; please get me out of here.

As if in answer to her prayer the doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be the doctor,’ John said, hurrying to answer it.

After an examination the doctor arranged for her to go to hospital. John and Lottie stood side by side on the pavement as Sally was put into the ambulance and driven away. She refused to let them accompany her, despite their appeals.

In Casualty they found two broken ribs, but another X-ray showed that her ankle wasn’t fractured, it was just a nasty sprain. Binding both her ribs and her ankle tightly, the nursing staff assured her that she was lucky; other than extensive bruising, there were no serious injuries, and she could go home.

Lucky? Sally thought. How can I be lucky when it feels as though my heart’s been broken? Tears threatened again and she fought to hold them back, stifling her sobs when she rang Elsie.

Bert said he’d come to pick her up, and when the car arrived she wasn’t surprised to see her mum and gran sitting in the back. The painkillers had taken effect, making her drowsy, and using this as an excuse she managed to avoid most of their questions, just saying that she had fallen down some stairs. She closed her eyes then to avoid their probing.

When they arrived home, Bert carried her upstairs, where, after being tucked into bed solicitously by her mother, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

The room was dim when Sally awoke, hearing voices on the stairs. She tensed; it sounded like John. ‘Go away,’ she whimpered as he approached the bed, her mother hovering behind him.

‘Mrs Marchant, may I talk to Sally alone, please?’

‘No, Mum, please don’t go,’ she begged. Then, trying to keep her breathing shallow, she steeled herself, fighting to quell the tears that lay just below the surface. ‘John, I said go away and I meant it. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll tell everyone what I saw.’

‘No, Sally, you were mistaken,’ he said urgently. ‘Larry and I—’

‘Don’t bother to lie to me, John,’ she interrupted. ‘I heard you concocting your story with Lottie.’ She shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t have worked, you know. You see, I saw what you were doing.’

‘Sally, please,’ he begged, eyes flicking towards her mother, his colour high, the panic on his face showing how frightened he was of exposure.

Oh God, she had loved him so much, but he had used her, lied to her. Worst of all was the pain of realising that he had never really loved her in return. No wonder he rejected my embraces, she thought bitterly, I was the wrong sex. Tears threatened again and, unable to cope, she turned to look at her mother. ‘Mum, please get him out of here.’

‘Come on, John,’ Ruth said firmly. ‘You heard my daughter. I’ll see you out.’

Sally lowered her head, unable to bear the appeal in John’s eyes, before he turned and walked out of the room.

In no time her mother was back and standing by the bed. ‘Well, what was all that about?’ she demanded.

‘Please, Mum. Not now, I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Am I to take it that you’ve broken up with him? Is the wedding off?’

‘Yes, it’s over,’ she told her, the finality of the words causing the long-held tears to flow.

‘Oh Sally, don’t cry,’ Ruth appealed, sitting down beside her on the bed. ‘Why don’t you tell me what happened. Who’s this Larry, and what was it you saw?’

Hearing the questions, her tears turned into sobs, the pain in her ribs agonising. She wouldn’t be able to speak coherently, even if she wanted to; she could hardly breathe.

‘Come on now, calm down or you’ll make yourself ill. Look, I’ll go and get you a nice cup of tea.’

A cup of tea, Sally thought, fighting hysteria. Her mother’s cure-all for everything that life threw at you. Oh God, if only it was as easy as that.

‘Well, he didn’t stay long,’ Sadie said acidly as soon as Ruth walked into the kitchen. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Sally’s called the wedding off,’ Ruth told her, whilst filling the kettle with water.

There was a stunned silence as Sadie digested her words. That had shut her mother up for a few minutes, Ruth thought, spooning tea into the pot. It was terrible to see Sally so upset, yet she couldn’t help feeling relieved that the relationship was over.

The silence didn’t last long. ‘Why has she called it off?’ Sadie asked.

Ruth sighed with exasperation. ‘I don’t know. Sally won’t talk about it, and to tell you the truth, I didn’t like to push her. She’s in a bit of a state.’

Sadie poked a stray wisp of hair back into her hairnet and pushed herself out of the chair. ‘I’ll go and ’ave a word with her.’

‘Don’t force her to talk about it, Mum. She’ll tell us when she’s good and ready.’

‘There’s no need to lecture me, Ruth,’ Sadie said indignantly. ‘I ain’t a complete fool, you know.’

As she was about to leave the room, Elsie popped her head around the back door. ‘I’ve just come to see how Sally is, and to ask if she’s up to a visit from Ann.’

‘Come to think of it,’ Sadie mused, returning to her chair, ‘it might be better if Ann talks to Sally. She’s more likely to confide in her than me. The days when she used to run to me with her problems are long gone.’

‘Confide in her about what?’ Elsie asked. ‘I know she’s had a nasty fall, but has something else happened?’

‘Yeah, you could say that,’ Ruth answered. ‘The wedding’s off, and before you ask, I don’t know why.’ She paused, brows drawn together. ‘Mum’s right though, she might tell Ann.’

‘I’ll go and get her,’ Elsie said, scurrying out of the back door. ‘Pour out the tea, I’ll be back in a jiffy.’

Ann placed Sally’s cup on the bedside table, and smiling sympathetically, asked, ‘How are you feeling?’

‘As if I’ve been hit by a train,’ Sally answered. ‘But it’s just a couple of broken ribs, a sprained ankle, and I’m black and blue with bruises.’

‘It sounds like you were lucky. From what I’ve heard it was a nasty fall and you could have been seriously injured.’

Lucky? Sally thought, closing her eyes in despair on hearing those words again. She shifted slightly in the bed and then turned to look at her friend. ‘I suppose Mum’s told you that I’ve broken up with John.’