Bye Bye Love (29 page)

J
ONATHAN
ran along the sea front to the Trafalgar, borrowed the car keys from his father with just the briefest explanation and galloped downstairs again to where the Austin was parked in the yard at the back. His mind was racing as fast as his feet, and already he had part of a plan of action in place. The rest rather depended on Scarlett and just how bad her situation was. He made his way round the back streets, wondering just what had happened. A fire was a terrible thing. He had seen the devastation it could cause when an apartment close to his in Paris went up in flames. And Scarlett had so little anyway. To lose what she did have was dreadful. But she hadn’t said that either she or the children were hurt. He held on to that comfort.

He came out into the London Road close to Scarlett’s turning and looked along the pavement on the other side. There she was, by the phonebox. His heart contracted in pity. Her hands were in her pockets, her shoulders slumped in misery. Never in all the years he had known her, through all the troubles she had had to face, had he seen her looking defeated, but today she looked very close to it. He pulled over to her side of the road and stopped.

At first she glanced at the car without interest. Then she recognised him at the wheel and her whole body seemed to gain some life.

‘Jonathan!’

She stepped forward as he got out of the car. As naturally as breathing, they fell into each other’s arms.

‘Oh, Jonathan, you’re here. I’m so glad you’re here.’

‘Of course I’m here. How could I leave you at a time like this?’

She felt right in his arms. He held her close, laying his head against hers. This was where he was supposed to be.

‘I shouldn’t have rung you. But I didn’t know what to do—’

‘Of course you should. I’m glad you did.’

He wanted to go on holding her, but they were standing in a busy street and there were things to be done. He led her round to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door for her. Scarlett flopped down on the seat. Jonathan got in beside her and put an arm round her shoulders.

‘Now, tell me what happened.’

It was all a bit garbled at first, but gradually he put the story together. What it amounted to was that Scarlett had lost everything and her father was dead.

‘My poor darling,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry, so very sorry.’

It sounded so horribly inadequate.

‘I’ve got to go and fetch the children,’ Scarlett said.

‘Right, we’ll go and do that first.’

He couldn’t wave a magic wand and bring her home and her father back, but he could take her to her children.

‘But I don’t know where to go after that. I can’t tell the Harringtons I haven’t a roof over my head. They’ll keep the children, I know they will. They’re already very jumpy over the divorce—’

‘Divorce?’ This was news to Jonathan.

‘Yes. Ricky wrote to me a couple of weeks ago. He’s living with someone in Liverpool and now he wants a divorce. I think the Harringtons have known about her for a while, but they didn’t tell me because they want us to stay married. But never mind that now. I must go and get the children.’

‘Right.’

His mind was still reeling with the implications of what she had just said. This could change everything. But there was a gathering note of desperation in Scarlett’s voice. He could feel her shaking with it. He had to deal with the immediate problems first.

‘We’ll get them and then we’ll go to my place,’ he told her.

‘What, the Trafalgar?’ Scarlett sounded horrified.

‘No, the restaurant. You can stay in the flat there.’ Jonathan started the car. ‘Which way to the Harringtons’?’

Scarlett gave directions. ‘But I can’t stay at your flat,’ she protested.

‘It won’t be very comfortable, I’m afraid. But I’ve been thinking on the way over here. We can borrow some camp-beds and sleeping bags and there are some tables and chairs out the back that were in the place when we took it over. I’m sure if we ask round the gang they’ll have some spare household bits they could let you have. And the flat’s got a little kitchen and bathroom and all the services are on, so it is liveable in, just a bit Spartan. And you’ll have to put up with the builders banging around downstairs, I’m afraid.’

‘But it’s your home. I can’t live in your home. What will Corinne say? I’ll cause you all sorts of problems.’

‘Corinne won’t know. She’s still in Paris, remember. And I’m living with my parents at the moment.’

‘But I can’t just walk into your place—’

‘Yes, you can. Until we can get something better organised.’

‘But—’

‘No buts. Have you got a better idea?’

‘No,’ Scarlett had to admit.

She was so down that he almost felt ashamed at winning the argument so easily, even though it was for her own good.

His next task was to deal with Mrs Harrington. She only had to take one look at Scarlett to see that something was wrong.

‘What’s happened? And who’s this?’ she asked, regarding Jonathan with open suspicion.

‘I’m a friend of the family. I’ve known the Smiths for years,’ Jonathan told her. ‘I’m afraid Scarlett has suffered a terrible loss.’

‘Mummy!’

The two children came rushing past their grandmother to fling themselves into her arms. Scarlett bent down to gather them to her, kissed them both and held them tight, rocking them from side to side.

Over Scarlett’s head, Mrs Harrington was still glaring at Jonathan.

‘If it’s that father of hers, that’s no loss at all to the world,’ she said.

‘He’s still her father. She’s very upset, naturally.’

Mrs Harrington made a disbelieving noise. ‘I can keep the children here if you’ve got to go and make arrangements,’ she said to Scarlett.

‘No!’

Scarlett held them more tightly and backed away.

Mrs Harrington took a long breath through her nose.

‘We know where our duty lies. You’re still our daughter-in-law, remember, and we’re still the children’s grandparents.’

Scarlett nodded. Jonathan was beginning to understand why she feared her mother-in-law.

‘Go and sit in the car, Scarlett,’ he said to her.

Mrs Harrington switched her full attention to him. ‘It was the drink, I suppose?’ she said.

‘In a way,’ Jonathan admitted. It was no use lying. She was going to find out sooner or later. He waited till the car door had closed on Scarlett and the children. ‘There was a fire at the flat. Mr Smith died in it.’

‘A fire? What state is that flat in? She can’t take the children back there, surely? Scarlett—!’ Mrs Harrington made to step round Jonathan and go to the car. Jonathan blocked her way.

‘She’s not taking them there. My family have a property that Scarlett can live in for now, and that’s where I’m taking them.’

Mrs Harrington gave him a hard look.

‘I see. I’ve suspected this for some time. Friend of the family, indeed. You’re her fancy man, aren’t you? Just wait till my Ricky hears of this. There she was, acting the injured party, when all along she’s got you in tow. I never did believe that she was on her own all that time. You’re probably not the first and I’m sure you won’t be the last. Flighty little madam. She never was good enough for my Ricky.’

Jonathan’s fingers itched. He kept them firmly under control and stared Mrs Harrington down.

‘I think you had better get your facts straight before you start making allegations like that, Mrs Harrington,’ he told her. ‘As I said, I’ve known the Smiths since Scarlett’s mother died, so at a time like this, naturally I do what I can to help. My fiancée and I have a flat on the sea front that isn’t being used at the moment that Scarlett can live in. She won’t be bringing the children back here tonight because she’s not in a fit state to go to work. She’s far too shocked. I’m sure she will let you know what’s happening so that you can support her at the funeral.’

He could practically see the thought processes going on in Mrs Harrington’s head. The last thing she wanted to do was to pretend respect for Victor Smith, but she knew what the correct form was. Victor was a relative. You went to a relative’s funeral, or risked being talked about by the neighbours.

Mrs Harrington made a noise in her throat that could have meant anything.

‘Where’s this flat you’re taking her to? I have a right to know. Those are my grandchildren.’

‘They are Scarlett’s children, and they are being very well looked after. I’m sure Scarlett will be in touch as soon as she feels able to cope. Thank you for your help, Mrs Harrington. Goodbye.’

He strode to the car, got in and drove off, leaving Mrs Harrington holding onto the front gate and gazing after them.

In the back of the car, the two children were bouncing up and down with excitement. Scarlett tried to get them to sit down.

‘You were wonderful,’ she said to Jonathan.

‘Rubbish,’ Jonathan said.

He glanced at his watch. Nearly eleven. He should be at work. He saw a phone box coming up and stopped by it.

‘Just got to make a call,’ he said.

They weren’t very happy at his workplace, to say the least. But this was an emergency, and they would just have to manage without him.

Next they went to pick up the things that Scarlett’s neighbours had given her. He parked at the top of the road so that the children wouldn’t see the state of their home and walked down to Mrs Jenkins’s, once again introducing himself as a friend of the family.

‘I’m glad there’s someone to look after her, the poor thing,’ Mrs Jenkins said, handing over the bags. ‘But where is she going to stay? The police were here asking. They want to interview her.’

Jonathan gave her a card and promised he would ring the police. As he walked back up to the car, another chain of problems ran through his head. There would be an inquest, and then a funeral to cope with. And there was still this question of the divorce. Through the buzz of things to plan, this rang out clear and challenging. One day, sooner or later, Scarlett would be a free woman again.

‘Here we are,’ he said, opening the passenger door and putting the bags on the seat and the floor. He was greeted by crying from both of the children.

‘I want my horsey!’ Joanne wailed.

Jonathan got into the driver’s seat and turned round to raise his eyebrows at Scarlett.

‘I had to tell her she couldn’t go home. She wants her ride-on horse that Nell and Bert gave her,’ Scarlett explained above the row. She looked shattered, her face drawn and ill as she tried to comfort her daughter. It didn’t help that little Simon appeared to have come out in sympathy.

Jonathan reached into the glove compartment, where his mother usually kept a supply of sweets.

‘Here,’ he said, handing back a bag of toffees. ‘Try these.’

Soon the noise was muffled by sucking and chewing.

He drove down to the sea front and along to the restaurant, then shepherded his little flock up to the apartment. Joanne had brightened up a bit, but Scarlett still looked drained. Jonathan got a couple of the builders to carry a table and chairs upstairs while he made tea all round. The children chewed more toffees.

‘Nana doesn’t let us have sweets before meals,’ Joanne spluttered through a full mouth.

‘It’s a special treat, just for today,’ Jonathan told her. ‘Look, I think there’s some toys in this bag. Why don’t you have a look?’

He sat down facing Scarlett across the shabby table. She was leaning on her elbows with her mug of tea cradled in her hands. A tear trickled down her face.

‘I’ll never see him again,’ she said in a small voice.

‘I’m sure he didn’t suffer, not if he was asleep when the fire started. He would have been unconscious from the smoke,’ he said. He had no idea if he was right, but he had to say something comforting.

‘I hope so.’ Scarlett brushed away the tears with her hands and took a gulp of tea. ‘At least he’ll be with Mum now. I’ve got to think of that. He wasn’t the same man after she died.’

‘I wish I’d known him before,’ Jonathan said.

‘So do I. I know you never thought much of him. Nobody did. But that wasn’t the real Victor. You’d of liked the real Victor.’

‘I’m sure I would,’ Jonathan agreed.

He let her talk on for a while, remembering the good times with her father. Simon let out a howl when Joanne took the toy he was playing with. Jonathan distracted him with a wooden car from the small pile of hand-me-downs, and Simon climbed onto his knee and ran the car up and down the table, making engine noises. Jonathan looked at his chubby little hands, his intent expression. He was a nice kid. It was a shame he’d had such a rotten deal in life so far.

When Scarlett had talked herself to a standstill, he raised the question of talking to the police. Scarlett looked horrified.

‘The police?’

‘It’s just routine. After an unnatural death, you know,’ he told her, again hoping he was right. ‘Do you want me to ring them for you?’

Scarlett nodded wordlessly. Jonathan reached across the table and squeezed her hand, lifted Simon off his knee and went downstairs to use the phone. The call to the police out of the way, he rang round all his friends. Half an hour later he went back up to Scarlett with a plate of sandwiches, more tea and a list.

‘Someone’s coming to interview you at four,’ he told her. ‘Do you want me to be here with you?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘OK. In the meantime, I’ve got promises of stuff from all these people. You should have more than enough to make a bit of a home here. And they all send their sympathy—the gang, of course, and Aunty Marge and the Mancinis, they were all shocked to hear your news. The thing is, do you want to come with me while I collect what they’ve promised, or would you rather stay here?’

‘I don’t know—I can’t think—’

‘There would be more room in the car if you stayed here, but are you sure you’ll be all right?’

‘Yes, yes—you go.’

He paused at the door of the living room as he left, looking back at her as she sat at the table. Corinne had spoken of them sitting there on a sofa, looking out at the sea, but it needed a very strong leap of imagination now to see that. Scarlett looked right sitting there.