A Cuckoo in Candle Lane (33 page)

‘Talk to me, Sally,’ Sid said as she stepped into the room, indicating that she should sit opposite him.

Sally looked into his eyes, finding them full of sympathy, not anger – and suddenly found that all her pent-up emotions rose to the surface as she sobbed out her unhappiness, crying for the first time since Arthur’s departure.

Silence filled the room when she finally managed to bring herself under control. Sid, saying nothing, went over to the old butler sink in the corner, filling the kettle from the cold tap. After putting it onto the gas stove he returned, and sitting down, leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. ‘Do you know something, Sally, when my wife died, I wanted to die too. She was a wonderful woman, my Rachel, and we were together for over forty years.’

Sally just stared at him and he smiled softly.

‘What’s the silly old fool going on about, I expect you’re thinking. No, it’s all right,’ he said when she started to protest. ‘All I’m trying to say, Sally, is that time is a great healer. You’ll get over the loss of your young man. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it does get easier.’

She shook her head, a denial on her lips as he continued.

‘Just give it time,’ he said gently. ‘Perhaps you’ve been trying too hard to put on a brave front. My Rachel was a wise woman. She used to say that tears are the best medicine for unhappiness, and I’m sure she’s right.’

Oh, it was too much – the sympathy was too much, Sally thought guiltily. Sid thinks I’m putting on a brave face, but in truth I’m a coward. I’m afraid to let anyone know how I feel about Arthur, especially Elsie. She would never forgive me if she knew I might have been able to stop him from emigrating.

Christmas Day had been awful. They were invited to Elsie’s for dinner, and it had proved a disaster. Seeing how much they were missing Arthur had added to her guilt, and though her mum and gran had tried to cheer everyone up, it was a relief when the day came to an end.

Talking to Sid had made her take a good look at herself, and to admit her feelings for the first time. Perhaps crying had helped, for she realised now that she had to accept that Arthur had gone – gone for ever. Somehow she must get on with her life without him.

She stood up, determined now to make an effort. ‘Right, I think I’ll pop across to the baker’s and get us a couple of nice crusty rolls. If I don’t make lunch before I go, you won’t bother to eat, will you?’

‘That’s the ticket, Sally. How about a nice bowl of chicken soup to go with them?’

After Sid had eaten his fill, he leaned back, patting his tummy contentedly. ‘The shop’s done really well, Sally. Those Christmas lines you ordered ’ave nearly all gone, especially the sewing baskets. We’ve hardly got anything left to put in a January sale. But come on now, it’s time you went home, you’re wasting your half-day off.’

‘All right. I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ she told him, making her way back down to the shop, gratified that the new lines she’d tried had been a success.

A quick glance around showed her that everything was neat and tidy, so putting her coat on she left the shop, locking the door behind her.

The sky was laden with dark, heavy rainclouds, and as she walked home, her spirits dropped again. The determination she had felt to make an effort diminished as her thoughts turned, yet again, to Arthur.

Elsie stared at the Tarot cards, unable to make any sense of the spread. The only thing that leaped out at her was that she was going to get a letter. She shook her head impatiently; she didn’t need the Tarot cards to tell her that. After all, Arthur had been at sea for six weeks now and must be due to land in Australia soon.

Something was going to happen, she had been sensing it for days – but what? Impatiently gathering the cards together and wrapping them in a silk cloth, she put them back into their wooden box. The room looked so bare now without the Christmas decorations, yet she had been glad to take them down. Their first Christmas without Arthur had been awful – they were all pining. Bert was still refusing to talk about his feelings, only commenting that
Jones & Son
would never be painted on the side of his removal vans now.

She had invited Ruth, Sally and Sadie around for Christmas dinner, which she soon came to realise was a mistake, because it had ended up spoiling their Christmas too. Poor Sally had been dreadfully subdued and Elsie guessed that she was intuitively picking up on their unhappiness.

The door opened and she looked up in surprise when Bert walked into the room, almost as though her thoughts had conjured him up. ‘Hello, love, what are you doing home so early?’ she asked him in surprise.

He yanked his cap off, pulled out a chair, and sat down, gazing at her earnestly. Elsie shivered intuitively. He was going to tell her something – something very important.

‘We’ve got three vans now, love, and may need another one soon. As you know, I can’t do any more lifting, so I spend most of my time in the office and going out to give estimates. When I looked at the accounts last week it made me realise how the business is thriving.’

‘Yes, Bert, you’ve done really well, but what is this leading to?’

‘Think back to the day we moved into this house. What did I say to you?’

‘How can you expect me to remember that? It was nearly eight years ago.’

‘Well, I remember, Elsie. I’ve never forgotten the look on your face when you saw this house. You put on a brave front, but I knew you hated it.’

‘I must admit I didn’t like it at first, but we’ve been happy here,’ she told him, picking at the tablecloth, before adding, ‘until recently, that is.’

Bert nodded, his eyes clouding momentarily. ‘The day we moved in, I told you that if things went well with the business, we wouldn’t be here for long.’

‘Yes, you’re right, you did say something like that.’ Elsie smiled. ‘It’s lucky I didn’t hold you to it though.’

He smiled back ruefully. ‘You can hold me to it now, love. In fact, that’s why I’ve come home early. I’ve been to give an estimate for a couple moving to a smaller property, and from the moment I walked into their house I fell in love with it. So come on, get your coat on and I’ll take you to see it. If you like it – well, I’m going to buy it.’

She gawked at her husband, unable to believe her ears. This had come like a bolt out of the blue. ‘Wait a minute,’ she begged. ‘Give me a chance to take this in, Bert.’

‘We’ve got to leave now, Elsie. I told the couple I would bring you back to see it and they’re expecting us.’

She rose to her feet, her thoughts still racing. She knew the business was going well, but to own their own house, it was like a dream. Grabbing a comb, she quickly tidied her hair and after applying a dab of lipstick, grabbed her best coat out of the cupboard. ‘Right, I’m ready,’ she told her husband, following him out of the door.

It’s beautiful, Elsie thought, as they pulled up outside the house. Bert was right – and even without seeing inside, she loved it. Driving here, she had felt her excitement mounting, realising that they were heading for Wimbledon, and to Elsie that was like coming home.

As they got out of the car she gazed with delight at the wide, tree-lined avenue. Blossom trees, bare now, would be beautiful in the spring, she thought, picturing their froth of pink and white flowers. She turned to look at the semi-detached house again, loving the deep red bricks, mullioned windows and gabled roof, realising that it would look even better in the summer when the wisteria twined along the walls was in full bloom. ‘Oh Bert, it’s wonderful,’ she whispered, turning to smile at him.

He took her arm and they walked through the gate leading to the front door. Mature shrubs bordered the path, some evergreen, others, including roses, neatly pruned.

‘I can’t wait to see inside,’ she told him, feeling a quiver of excitement.

As the elderly couple escorted them around the ground floor, Elsie fell more and more in love with the house. From the moment she saw the oak panelling in the hall, to the time she stood on the red flagstones on the kitchen floor, she thought it was perfect. ‘Ann will love it too, Bert,’ she told him.

‘My husband will show you the bedrooms. I’m afraid I’m having difficulty with the stairs,’ the genteel lady told them.

‘Oh, is that why you’re moving?’ Elsie asked.

‘Yes. We’ve found a lovely little bungalow in Bournemouth, and though we’ll be sorry to leave this house, living by the coast will be some consolation.’

Elsie smiled gently, sensing her sadness, before following her husband upstairs. The bedrooms were spacious and looking out of one of the windows, she was amazed to see that the back garden was over a hundred feet long. It was mostly laid to lawn at the moment, but she was already picturing it planted out with a profusion of summer flowers.

‘Well, love, shall I make them an offer?’ Bert asked, coming to stand behind her.

‘Yes! Oh yes, it’s perfect,’ she answered, turning to give him a quick hug.

Back downstairs, Elsie gazed around the lovely big sitting room again, while Bert negotiated the asking price with the couple, thrilled to hear them accepting his offer almost immediately.

‘I can’t wait to move in,’ she told him as they returned to the car.

‘If we find a good solicitor, and there are no hitches along the way, we could be living here in just over a month or so.’

It was only as they were driving back to Battersea that Elsie’s thoughts turned to her friends. She would miss the Marchants so much. They had become like an extended family, and the thought of moving away lowered her mood.

‘You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden, what’s the matter?’ Bert asked.

‘I was thinking about Ruth and Sally, Sadie too.’

‘Now then, Elsie, we’re only moving to Wimbledon, not the other end of the country. You’ll be able to see them often enough.’

‘It won’t be the same though, will it?’ she said doubtfully.

‘You’ll soon get to know the neighbours here,’ he answered.

Yes, but will they be as friendly? she wondered, shaking her head in doubt. The Avenue had been practically deserted. No curtains twitching at windows, no children playing in the street, and somehow Elsie couldn’t imagine poking her head round their back doors to ask if the kettle was on.

She twisted in her seat, looking back for a last glimpse of the house before they turned the corner. Oh, it was lovely – more than lovely, it was beautiful. How can you compare it with Candle Lane? she thought, chastising herself for being silly. Bert was right, she would make new friends. It just might take a little longer, that was all.

‘I’m going back to the yard for a little while,’ Bert told her as they arrived home and he pulled into the kerb.

‘All right, love,’ Elsie said, her thoughts still distracted. ‘I’ll see you later.’

She had just taken her coat off and put the kettle on the hob, when the back door opened.

‘And where ’ave you been, all dolled up in your best bib and tucker?’ Ruth asked, grinning at her as she came into the kitchen.

‘You don’t miss much, do you?’ Elsie said, forcing a smile. ‘I’m just making a cuppa, do you want one?’

‘Can a duck swim?’

Elsie smiled at Ruth’s quip, and as she poured boiling water into the teapot she took a deep breath, deciding to tell her friend straight away. ‘Bert took me to see a house.’

‘What did he do that for?’

‘He wants to buy it, love,’ she said, turning to see a stunned look on Ruth’s face.

‘So you’re moving then?’ she whispered.

‘Yes, in about a month or so. Look, Ruth, it’s only in Wimbledon so we can still see each other. I’ll come to visit you every week and you can come to me. There’s no need for us to lose touch.’

Ruth nodded, her smile tremulous as she said, ‘I’m happy for you, really I am. It’s just come as a bit of a shock, that’s all. I don’t blame you for wanting to move away from this area; it’s really gone to the dogs. A lot of people from the Lane have gone and it ain’t the same now, is it? Joan Mason’s been given one of them new flats the council ’ave built.’ She grimaced. ‘Though what on earth has possessed her to move into one of them is beyond me. They’re an eyesore and look like a pile of bleedin’ matchboxes.’

Elsie could see that Ruth was being brave for her sake; only the fact that she was unconsciously wringing her hands betrayed her agitation. She kept the description of the house down to a minimum, her delight diminishing again in the face of her friend’s distress.

Later, when Ann came home from work, her reaction was contrary to Elsie’s expectations too. Instead of being thrilled, she was horrified at the thought of leaving Battersea. She didn’t want to move away from Billy, and the journey to work would take ages, she complained, stomping up to her room in a sulk that was so out of character, it left Elsie reeling.

When Bert came home that evening, he was obviously bewildered by the atmosphere as they sat round the table, eating dinner.

‘What’s the matter with everyone? Why all the long faces?’ he asked innocently.

Ann scowled as she cut into her pork chop. ‘I don’t want to move, Dad,’ she told him.

Seeing him stiffen, Elsie caught her daughter’s eyes, shaking her head reproachfully. ‘You’ll just have to get used to the idea, Ann. It’s a wonderful house and we’ve already agreed to buy it.’