Always And Forever (9 page)

She had got to her feet, dusting off her hands, brushing down her skirt.

‘No. Dolores—that is, Miss Trent—is at the hairdresser. Are you just passing through?'

‘I'm here for a couple of days. When do you close this shop?'

‘Five o'clock. But I tidy up after that.'

‘Will you spend the evening with me?'

She had bent to stroke Tiger's head. ‘I'd like that, thank you. Only I have to see to Oscar and Cyril, and take Cyril for a walk, so I won't be ready until about six o'clock.'

‘I'll be here soon after five…'

Dolores came in then, assuming her charming manner at the sight of a customer. ‘Have you found something you like? Do take a look round.'

She smiled at him, wondering where he came from; if he was on his own she might suggest showing him what was worth seeing in the city—the patisserie wasn't closed yet…

‘I came to see Amabel,' he told her. ‘We have known each other for some time, and since I am here for a day or two…'

‘You're old friends?' Dolores asked artlessly. ‘I expect you know York well? You don't live here?'

‘No, but I have been here before. We met some time ago, in the West Country.'

Still artless, Dolores said, ‘Oh, I thought you might be from London— I've friends there.' An idea—an unlikely idea—had entered her head. ‘But I don't suppose you would know them. I came up here after my divorce, and it was an old schoolfriend— Miriam Potter-Stokes—who persuaded me to do something instead of sitting aimlessly around…'

She knew her wild guess had been successful when he said quietly, ‘Yes, I know Miriam. I must tell her how successful you are.'

‘Do, please. I must be off. Amabel, close at five o'clock. There'll be a delivery of those candlesticks before nine o'clock tomorrow morning, so be sure to be ready for it.' She gave the doctor a smiling nod. ‘Nice to have met you. I hope you enjoy your stay here.'

 

She wasted no time when she reached her home, but poured herself a drink and picked up the phone.

‘Miriam, listen and don't interrupt. Do you know where this Oliver of yours is? You don't? He's a big man, handsome, rather a slow voice, with a black dog? He's in my shop. On the best of terms with Amabel, the girl who works for me. It seems they've known each other for some time.' She gave a spiteful little laugh. ‘Don't be too sure that Oliver is yours, Miriam.'

She listened to Miriam's outraged voice, smiling to herself. Miriam was an old schoolfriend, but it wouldn't hurt her to be taken down a peg. Dolores said soothingly, ‘Don't get so upset, darling. He's here for a few days; I'll keep an eye on things and let you know if there's anything for you to worry about. Most unlikely, I should think. She's a small dull creature and she wears the most appalling clothes. I'll give you a ring tomorrow some time.'

 

When Dolores had gone the doctor said, ‘Where do you live, Amabel? Surely not here?'

‘Oh, but I do. I have a room behind the shop.'

‘You shall show it to me when I come back.' He glanced at his watch. ‘In half an hour.'

She said uncertainly, ‘Well…'

‘You're glad to see me, Amabel?'

She said without hesitating, ‘Oh, yes, I am.'

‘Then don't dither,' he said.

He came closer, and, looking down into her face, took her hands in his. ‘There is a Nigerian proverb which says, “Hold a true friend with both your hands,”' he said. He smiled and added gently, ‘I'm your true friend, Amabel.'

C
LOSING
the shop, tidying up, feeding Oscar and Cyril, doing her face and hair, Amabel was conscious of a warm glow deep inside her person. She had a friend, a real friend. She was going to spend the evening with him and they would talk. There was so much she wanted to talk about…

He had said that he would be back at half past five, so at that time she shut her room door and went back into the shop to let him in, stooping to pat Tiger. ‘I still have to take Cyril for a walk,' she told him as she led the way to her room.

He stood in the middle of it, looking round him, absently fondling Cyril. He didn't allow his thoughts to show on his face, but remarked placidly, ‘Having access to space for Oscar and Cyril is an advantage, isn't it? They're happy here with you?'

‘Well, yes. It's not ideal, but I'm lucky to have found it. And I have you to thank for that. I couldn't thank you before because I didn't know where you lived.'

‘A lucky chance. Can we leave Oscar for a few hours?'

‘Yes, he knows I take Cyril out in the evening. I'll get my coat.'

She was longing for a cup of tea; the afternoon had been long and she hadn't had the chance to make one. She was hungry too. He had told her that they were true friends, but she didn't know him well enough to suggest going to a café, and besides, Cyril needed his run.

They set off, talking of nothing much at first, but presently, walking briskly through the park, she began to answer his carefully put questions with equally careful answers.

They had been walking steadily for half an hour when he stopped and caught her by the arm. ‘Tea,' he said. ‘Have you had your tea? What a thoughtless fool I am.'

She said quickly, ‘Oh, it doesn't matter, really it doesn't,' and added, ‘It was such a lovely surprise when you came into the shop.'

He turned her round smartly. ‘There must be somewhere we can get a pot of tea.'

So she got her tea, sitting at a very small table in a chintzy teashop where shoppers on their way home were still lingering. Since she was hungry, and the doctor seemed hungry too, she tucked into hot buttered toast, hot mince pies and a slice of the delicious walnut cake he insisted that she have.

‘I thought we'd have dinner at my hotel,' he told her. ‘But if you're not too tired we might take a walk through the streets. York is such a splendid place, and I'd like to know more of it.'

‘Oh, so would I. But about going to the hotel for dinner— I think it would be better if I didn't. I mean, there's Cyril, and I'm not—that is— I didn't stop to change my dress.'

‘The hotel people are very helpful about dogs. They'll
both be allowed to stay in my room while we dine. And you look very nice as you are, Amabel.'

He sounded so matter-of-fact that her doubts melted away, and presently they continued with their walk.

None of the museums or historical buildings was open, but they wouldn't have visited them anyway; they walked the streets— Lendal Street, Davey Gate, Parliament Street and Coppergate, to stare up at Clifford's Tower, then back through Coppergate and Fosse Gate and Pavement and so to the Shambles again, this time from the opposite end to Dolores's shop. They lingered for a while so that she could show him the little medieval church where she sometimes went, before going on to the Minster, which they agreed would need leisurely hours of viewing in the daylight.

The hotel was close by, and while Amabel went away to leave her coat and do the best she could with her face and hair the doctor went with the dogs. He was waiting for her when she got back to the lounge.

‘We deserve a drink,' he told her, ‘and I hope you are as hungry as I am.'

It wasn't a large hotel, but it had all the unobtrusive perfection of service and comfort. They dined in a softly lit restaurant, served by deft waiters. The
maître d'
had ushered them to one of the best tables, and no one so much as glanced at Amabel's dowdy dress.

They dined on tiny cheese soufflés followed by roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, light as a feather, crisp baked potatoes and baby sprouts, as gently suggested by the doctor. Amabel looked as though a good meal wouldn't do her any harm, and she certainly enjoyed every mouthful—even managing a morsel of the lemon mousse which followed.

Her enjoyment was unselfconscious, and the glass of claret he ordered gave her face a pretty flush as well as loosening her tongue. They talked with the ease of two people who knew each other well—something which Amabel, thinking about it later, found rather surprising—and presently, after a leisurely coffee, the doctor went to fetch the dogs and Amabel her coat and they walked back to the shop.

The clocks were striking eleven as they reached the shop door. He took the key from her, opened the door and handed her Cyril's lead.

‘Tomorrow is Wednesday—you have a half-day?' When she nodded he said, ‘Good. Could you be ready by half past one? We'll take the dogs to the sea, shall we? Don't bother with lunch; we'll go next door and have coffee and a roll.'

She beamed up at him. ‘Oh, that would be lovely. Dolores almost always goes about twelve o'clock on Wednesdays, so I can close punctually, then there'll only be Oscar to see to.' She added anxiously, ‘I don't need to dress up?'

‘No, no. Wear that coat, and a scarf for your head; it may be chilly by the sea.'

She offered a hand. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening: I have enjoyed it.'

‘So have I.' He sounded friendly, and as though he meant it—which of course he did. ‘I'll wait until you're inside and locked up. Goodnight, Amabel.'

She went through the shop and turned to lift a hand to him as she opened the door to her room and switched on the light. After a moment he went back to his hotel. He would have to return to London tomorrow, but he could
leave late and travel through the early part of the night so that they could have dinner together again.

‘Am I being a fool?' he enquired of Tiger, whose gruff rumble could have been either yes or no…

It was halfway through the busy morning when Dolores asked casually, ‘Did you have a pleasant evening with your friend, Amabel?'

Amabel warmed to her friendly tone. ‘Oh, yes, thank you. We went for a walk through the city and had dinner at his hotel. And this afternoon we're going to the sea.'

‘I dare say you found plenty to talk about?'

‘Yes, yes, we did. His visit was quite unexpected. I really didn't expect to see him again…'

‘Does he come this way often? It's quite a long journey from London.'

‘Well, yes. He came just before I started work here—my mother told him where I was and he looked me up.'

She had answered readily enough, but Dolores was prudent enough not to ask any more questions. She said casually, ‘You must wrap up; it will be cold by the sea. And you can go as soon as he comes for you; I've some work I want to do in the shop.'

She's nicer than I thought, reflected Amabel, going back to her careful polishing of a row of silver photo frames.

Sure enough, when the doctor's large person came striding towards the shop, Dolores said, ‘Off you go, Amabel. He can spend ten minutes in the shop while you get ready.'

While Amabel fed Oscar, got Cyril's lead and got into her coat, tidied her hair and made sure that she had everything in her handbag, Dolores invited the doctor to look
round him. ‘We're showing our Christmas stock,' she told him. ‘It's always a busy time, but we close for four days over the holiday. Amabel will be able to go to her aunt's house. She's away at present, Amabel told me, but I'm sure she'll be back by then.' She gave him a sly glance. ‘I dare say you'll manage to get a few days off?'

‘Yes, I dare say.'

‘Well, if you see Miriam give her my love, won't you? Are you staying here long?'

‘I'm going back tonight. But I intend to return before Christmas.'

Amabel came then, with Cyril on his lead. She looked so happy that just for a moment Dolores had a quite unusual pang of remorse. But it was only a pang, and the moment they had gone she picked up the phone.

‘Miriam— I promised to ring you. Your Oliver has just left the shop with Amabel. He's driving her to the sea and spending the rest of the day with her. What is more, he told me that he intends returning to York before Christmas. You had better find yourself another man, darling!'

She listened to Miriam raging for a few minutes. ‘I shouldn't waste your breath getting into a temper. If you want him as badly as all that then you must think of something. When you have, let me know if I can help.'

Miriam thought of something at once. When Dolores heard it she said, ‘Oh, no, I can't do that.' For all her mischief-making she wasn't deliberately unkind. ‘The girl works very well, and I can't just sack her at a moment's notice.'

‘Of course you can; she's well able to find another job—plenty of work around before Christmas. When he comes tell Oliver she's found a better job and you don't'
know where it is. Tell him you'll let him know if you hear anything of her; he won't be able to stay away from his work for more than a couple of days at a time. The girl won't come to any harm, and out of sight is out of mind…'

Miriam, most unusually for her burst into tears, and Dolores gave in; after all, she and Miriam were very old friends…

 

The doctor and his little party had to walk to where he had parked the car, and on the way he marshalled them into a small pub in a quiet street to lunch upon a sustaining soup, hot crusty bread and a pot of coffee—for, as he explained, they couldn't walk on empty stomachs. That done, he drove out of the city, north through the Yorkshire Moors, until he reached Staithes, a fishing village between two headlands.

He parked the car, tucked Amabel's hand under his arm and marched her off into the teeth of a strong wind, the dogs trotting happily on either side of them. They didn't talk; the wind made that difficult and really there was no need. They were quite satisfied with each other's company without the need of words.

The sea was rough, grey under a grey sky, and once away from the village there was no one about. Presently they turned round, and back in the village explored its streets. The houses were a mixture of cottages and handsome Georgian houses, churches and shops. They lingered at the antiques shops and the doctor bought a pretty little plate Amabel admired before they walked on beside the Beck and finally turned back to have tea at the Cod and Lobster pub.

It was a splendid tea; Amabel, her cheeks pink, her hair
all over the place and glowing with the exercise, ate the hot buttered parkin, the toast and home-made jam and the fruit cake with a splendid appetite.

She was happy—the shop, her miserable little room, her loneliness and lack of friends didn't matter. Here she was, deeply content, with someone who had said that he was her friend.

They didn't talk about themselves or their lives; there were so many other things to discuss. The time flew by and they got up to go reluctantly.

Tiger and Cyril, nicely replete with the morsels they had been offered from time to time, climbed into the car, went to sleep and didn't wake until they were back in York. The doctor parked the car at his hotel, led the dogs away to his room and left Amabel to tidy herself. It was no easy task, and she hardly felt at her best, but it was still early evening and the restaurant was almost empty.

They dined off chicken
à la king
and lemon tart which was swimming in cream, and the doctor talked comfortably of this and that. Amabel wished that the evening would go on for ever.

It didn't of course. It was not quite nine o'clock when they left the hotel to walk back to the shop. The girl who worked in the patisserie was still there, getting ready to leave. She waved as they passed and then stood watching them. She liked Amabel, who seemed to lead a very dull and lonely life, and now this handsome giant of a man had turned up…

The doctor took the key from Amabel, opened the shop door and then gave it back to her.

‘Thank you for a lovely afternoon— Oliver. I feel full of fresh air and lovely food.'

He smiled down at her earnest face. ‘Good. We must do it again, some time. When she looked uncertain, he added, ‘I'm going back to London tonight, Amabel. But I'll be back.'

He opened the door and pushed her inside, but not before he had given her a quick kiss. The girl in the patisserie saw that, and smiled. Amabel didn't smile, but she glowed from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.

He had said that he would come back…

 

Dolores was in a friendly mood in the morning; she wanted to know where Amabel had gone, if she had had a good dinner, and was her friend coming to see her again?

Amabel, surprised at the friendliness, saw no reason to be secretive. She gave a cheerful account of her afternoon, and when Dolores observed casually, ‘I dare say he'll be back again?' Amabel assured her readily enough that he would.

Any niggardly doubts Dolores might have had about Miriam's scheme were doused by the girl in the patisserie who served her coffee.

‘Nice to see Amabel with a man,' she observed chattily. ‘Quite gone on her, I shouldn't doubt. Kissed her goodbye and all. Stood outside the shop for ages, making sure she was safely inside. He'll be back, mark my words! Funny, isn't it? She's such a plain little thing, too…'

This was something Miriam had to know, so Dolores sent Amabel to the post office to collect a parcel and picked up the phone.

She had expected rage, perhaps tears from Miriam, but not silence. After a moment she said, 'Miriam?'

Miriam was thinking fast; the girl must be got rid of,
and quickly. Any doubts Dolores had about that must be quashed at once. She said in a small broken voice, 'Dolores, you must help me. I'm sure it's just a passing infatuation—only a few days ago we spent the evening together.' That there wasn't an atom of truth in that didn't worry her; she had to keep Dolores's sympathy.