Enduring Passions (15 page)

She looked to her mother for help. ‘Well, I’ve never led him to believe that there was anything special between us, he was just one of the crowd.’

‘Rubbish. Last night we could see with our own eyes how close you were. He was full of the way you two did everything together. It was a sort of an understanding you both had.’

Fay started to get angry. ‘That’s not true, Daddy.’ She appealed to her mother. ‘You know I’ve been interested in another boy.’

Her mother frowned. ‘This would-be pilot – what’s his name?’

Blushing, she nodded. ‘Yes and it’s Tom, Mother. Tom Roxham.’

Her Father sneered. ‘It’s just a schoolgirl crush, Fay – get over it.’

‘No – of course it’s not.’

Lord Rossiter shook his head. ‘I must say that I’m deeply disappointed in you.’

She protested, ‘But Daddy, all I’ve done is turn down Jeremy. I’m not in love with him – it’s as simple as that.’

‘And you are with this other fellow?’

‘Yes.’

There, she had said it.

‘Well, in that case perhaps he would be good enough to present himself to us. Or is it unrequited love?’

She felt on the verge of tears. ‘No – we’re
engaged
.’

There was a deathly silence.

‘Engaged?’ Her mother was incredulous.

‘Yes, Mummy. I’m sorry I haven’t told you – it only happened last weekend.’

Lord Rossiter shook his head in disbelief. ‘You saw him when you were in London?’

‘Yes.’

His face was like a thundercloud. ‘I presume nothing untoward happened between you?’

She cried out, ‘
Father
– of course not.’

But she knew her face had gone brick red – hoped they would
interpret
it as embarrassment. If they ever found out….

‘And you didn’t tell us?’

‘No. I mean I was getting round to telling you.’

‘When?’

She shifted uncomfortably. ‘Soon – I promise.’

‘What have you got to hide, Fay, what is it about this man?’

She didn’t have time to answer her father before—

‘If you’re engaged, where is your ring?’ It was her mother, who was nodding accusingly at her hand.

Instinctively Fay covered her left one with her right, hiding the naked finger.

‘We haven’t had time to choose one yet.’

Her father snapped, ‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

She was beginning to get over the shock of what had happened, almost relieved. It was something she had dreaded.

‘Why are you being so reticent about telling us about him? Or for that matter, why hasn’t he presented himself like a gentleman – come to see us as a matter of courtesy? Has he something to hide?’

Fay shook her head. ‘No of course not. It’s all happened so quickly – that’s all.’

‘I see.’

Her father paced the floor. ‘I don’t like this, Fay. Do his parents know?’

She faltered. ‘Frankly, I’ve no idea.’

‘Who are they? What does his father do?’

‘He doesn’t do anything – he was gassed in the war.’

For once Lord Rossiter looked sympathetic. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. So where do they live? Is it really Marlborough?’

‘No. In Cheltenham.’

‘And this boy – has he got prospects?’

It was coming to what she knew –
feared
– would be the most
dreadful
, shaming part for them to accept.

Fay defiantly brought her chin up. ‘He’s hard-working, bright,
intelligent
—’

But her father cut her off with a wave of his hand and barked, ‘That’s not what I asked. Just what does he do –
exactly
?’

She swallowed. ‘He’s an acting Detective Constable with the Great Western Railway Police.’

They were both visibly shocked. It tore her apart to see her parents hurt so much.

It was her mother who spoke first, her voice trembling and hushed. ‘You intend to marry
beneath
you?’

Fay winced. ‘Oh Mother, don’t be so silly.’

In contrast to his harsh voice before, her father whispered icily, ‘Enough of that Fay. Don’t insult your mother when what you propose to
do will humiliate us both.’

Suddenly Fay felt the tears coming. ‘I’m sorry, Mother – I didn’t mean to hurt – you are both so very dear to me. It’s just well, we’re made for each other – just like you and father.’

But Lady Rossiter remained indignant. ‘You can’t share the same
interests
, the same friends, you come from wildly different backgrounds. It will never last, and you
must
know that.’

Her father joined in. ‘He’s probably after your money – nothing but a fortune hunter.’

She shook her head in despair. ‘Daddy, how can you say something like that when you’ve never met him?’

‘And whose fault is that, young lady?’

She hung her head. ‘Mine really. I knew this would happen, I just wanted to put it off as long as possible, do it properly.’

‘So why now?’

She looked up. ‘Have you forgotten? Because of all this nonsense about Jeremy. And if there was ever a fortune hunter….’

‘Fay!’ Her father bellowed at her. She knew she’d gone too far, even though she felt it to be true.

‘Sorry. I’m upset, not thinking.’

‘You’re right there for once, you’ve lost your head, my girl. You must be ill or something.’

There was a brief respite, when only the sound of the dogs barking somewhere in the house broke the silence.

Suddenly, Lord Rossiter commanded, ‘I want to see this boy – first thing tomorrow.’

Anxiously her mother asked, ‘Is that wise?’

He continued staring at Fay. ‘Yes. If he comes here after you tell him how we feel about him, then I shall at least be able to admire his courage – or gall.’

Worried, she prevaricated. ‘I don’t know if he is free – he has to work you know.’

But her mother’s eyes flashed. ‘You told me you were meeting Jennifer on Monday. It’s not true is it – you’re meeting him?’

Fay knew her face gave her away. Reluctantly, she nodded, her mother’s lip curling. ‘Then bring him here. Let’s see this man who seems to have swept you off your feet.’

The contempt in her tone was only thinly disguised.

Fay turned back to her father.

‘I forgot. You have met him
already
, at the station. When I came back from Cheltenham you tried to tip him, but he gave the money back – don’t you remember?’

When it dawned on him whom she meant, he breathed, ‘My God –
that
impertinent fellow.’

‘He wasn’t being impertinent, Daddy, he was being honest.’

Her father shook his head in disgust. ‘The least you can do is present him to us tomorrow. Tell Simpson to drive you to Cheltenham in the morning and bring him back.’

‘But Daddy, haven’t you got to go to the House?’

‘Nothing that can’t wait. This is more important.’

‘Very well, may I use the telephone? I shall need to send a telegram.’

He nodded.

When she was gone he turned to his wife, shaking his head. ‘This is a nightmare. I would never had believed Fay could behave like this.’

Her mother agreed.

Fay didn’t know what to say, but finally managed to dictate to the
telegraph
operator:

It was read back to her.

‘Thank you.’

It was with some trepidation that she lowered the telephone. Tom and his parents would get a terrible shock receiving a telegram but she didn’t want Tom to be unprepared. Forewarned was forearmed. She felt ghastly. It had all happened so unexpectedly.

But one thing was a relief,
their
being together was now out in the open.

They’d had their usual Sunday main meal – a bit of roast mutton together with home-grown potatoes – mashed and carrots. Following this, they had tinned peaches topped with condensed milk.

Now Tom was cleaning all their shoes in the scullery, newspaper spread under the last on which he was steadying the shoes as he
vigorously
buffed the toe-caps.

His father was asleep on the couch and his mother and gran were
chatting
in front of the grate with cups of tea, when there was a loud knock on the door.

The women looked puzzled.

‘Who on earth can that be?’

His mother got up and hurried down the linoleum floored passage. When she opened the door the sight of the telegram boy made her hand instinctively fly to her throat.

The boy asked if Tom Roxham was at home. Somewhat relieved she turned and called, ‘Tom, there’s a telegram for you.’

He wiped his hands on a cloth as he joined her at the door.

‘Sign here please, sir.’

Doing as he was asked, Tom gave the pencil back and tore open the envelope. It took a second or two for the message, printed out on the ticker tape stuck to the sheet beneath, to sink in.

‘Any reply, sir?’

He shook his head, fumbling in his pocket until he found a penny. ‘There you are.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

He stayed at the door, watching the boy give a running push to his bike and jumping on all in one go.

When he shut the door and turned back into the house he was confronted by his worried-looking mother and gran, and a father who was now sitting up.

‘What was it, Son?’ His mother’s voice was full of anxiety.

Tom knew he couldn’t delay the matter any more – especially with Fay coming tomorrow.

‘It’s all right, Mum, it’s just from Fay – trying to get hold of me urgently.’

Nonplussed they waited. He took a deep breath.

‘She’s coming here tomorrow in a car. Her parents want to meet me.’

His father grunted. ‘A car – fine. You said they were rich, so is there something else you haven’t told us?’

Tom nodded. ‘Yes, her father is Lord Rossiter, he’s in the government.’ Lamely he added, ‘I suppose technically that makes Fay, the Hon. Does it?’

‘God Almighty’ exploded his Father, ‘you’re going out with bloody gentry.’

His mother looked flustered. ‘Oh dear Tom, oh dear.’ She couldn’t say anything else.

Gran shook her head. ‘No good will come of it, boy. They’ll look
down their noses at you and she won’t fit in around here, I can tell you. You’re daft’

His poor mother tried to come to his defence. ‘We’ve never met the girl, Mum.’

‘Got nothing to do with it,’ growled his father, who sagged back on the couch. ‘She can be as nice as pie, she just won’t fit in. And I daresay this summons by the high and mighty is because they bloody well don’t approve of you, my lad. Bet your bottom dollar they’re going to tell you what you can do.’ He gave a humourless chuckle that ended up in a coughing fit. ‘Better take the bus fare, you’ll be bloody walking home.’

His mother started crying.

Tom, feeling awful, wrapped his arms around her. ‘Don’t mind what he says, Mum. I know you’ll like Fay – she’s a girl in a million.’

‘With a million,’ cackled his father in between spasms of coughing and getting his breath back. ‘When the allure has worn off, it won’t last.’

Tom spoke only to his mother, knowing that his father was a lost cause. ‘We’re made for each other, Mum – you’ll see.’

His gran didn’t help. ‘Love match or not, I don’t know what she’ll make of this place.’ She waved her hand around.

His father had the last word. ‘She’ll be used to it – must have visited the estate workers cottages at Christmas to give out the master’s largess.’

Simpson brought the car around to the front of the house. She’d asked him to use the Lagonda not the great big Bentley.

As she sat in the back and watched the countryside go by, she thought of what the day would bring, of what lay ahead.

Firstly of course, she was going to meet his parents. How would they take to her? That made her nervous, as if she wasn’t tense enough already.

Then there was this awful, authoritarian summons by her parents. How had Tom taken that?

Her tummy felt as if something was adrift inside. She’d hardly eaten at breakfast and the atmosphere could have been cut with a knife.

Father had followed her to the door, looking at this watch. ‘We’re not ogres, Fay. He’s invited to luncheon.’

No doubt they would watch his table manners keenly.

They reached the outskirts of Cheltenham. Simpson, who’d looked at the address, had said that the best way to go was via the Air Balloon public house and then down Leckhampton Hill, past the Devil’s Chimney and the house where there had been a famous murder several years earlier.

‘It’s around here somewhere, miss.’

They’d entered a long tree-lined road. Passing the entrance to Leckhampton Station she suddenly noticed the street names to her right were similar. ‘Down one of these, Simpson, please.’

He turned the Lagonda. The area was no longer made up of large Edwardian houses, but small ones of red brick.

‘There, miss, just coming up to it.’

They turned into a road where there were terraces on both sides. Each
house had a front garden only a couple of feet wide separating it from the pavement.

‘There it is.’

They drew to a halt before number 12.

‘Don’t get out – please.’

‘Very good, miss.’

Fay opened the door herself and stepped down. Nervously she smoothed her coat and opened the gate. She had only taken one step before the door opened and Tom stood there. She wanted to run into his arms, but they both felt restrained. Neither spoke for a moment. Her heart sank, he looked so glum.

‘I’m sorry about this, Tom.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t be, it had to happen. By the way, I’ve got something to tell you – but later. First come and meet my mother and father.’

She made a face. ‘Oh God, Tom – what do they think about me?’

He just smiled and led her down the linoleum covered passage into the living-room. There before her was a man she instantly realized was Tom’s father because of the same blue eyes and once dark hair that was now streaked with grey. The woman beside him still retained something of the looks that had captivated his father but years of hard work had produced lines in her face and her hair was listless and dull.

Fay held out her hand. ‘Mrs Roxham, how do you do.’

His mother was overcome with shyness, even though the girl her son said he wanted to marry was really beautiful. Fay’s wide smile and open, honest face made his mother like her instantly.

She took the hand and only half suppressed a little curtsy which ended up as a tiny bob.

‘Pleased to meet you.’

Fay turned to find Mrs Roxham’s husband was staring at her with a piercing look that warned her this was where the trouble was going to come from. Mentally she registered the fact that her father also looked like being the main obstacle on her side.

He took a second to survey her before he finally spoke, ‘So,
this
is the girl who has cast such a spell over our son, eh?’

Fay kept smiling. ‘And he over me, don’t forget, Mr Roxham.’

His father moved nearer and delivered a barbed compliment. ‘I can see that you have a lively wit, Miss Rossiter, as well as good looks.’

Fay chuckled. ‘Thank you for the compliment, but I’m not sure about
the lively wit – or the good looks.’

An older woman, still dressed in clothes fashionable in the twenties came forward. ‘I’m his gran, miss, also pleased to meet you.’

Fay shook her hand, reminded in a way of her own, now dead
grandmother
, with her long hair piled into a bun on the back of her head.

His father said, ‘It’s a rum do, our lad and you – you must know that.’

Nervously, Tom decided to intervene before she could reply. ‘Well Fay, that’s the family – except for the dog.’

But she wasn’t to be distracted. Her eyes flashed in that way he had become accustomed to when she rose to a challenge.

‘Rum do or not, Mr Roxham, Tom and I are getting married; isn’t that so Tom?’

He looked at his father, and said it with a quiet determination, ‘Yes we are, Dad – she’s going to be my wife – your daughter-in-law.’

His mother broke the awkward lull. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee, my dear?’

Relieved, Fay beamed. ‘I’d love one, Mrs Roxham.’

His mother grinned sheepishly. ‘I’ve had the kettle on and off all morning waiting for you. It won’t take a second.’

His gran pulled a chair out from under the table. ‘Sit yourself down, lass.’

‘Thank you.’

Fay settled in the chair as Tom whispered in her ear, ‘It’s Camp coffee – you won’t like it.’

She smiled up at him and patted the hand that he was resting on her shoulder. ‘Oh yes I will.’

Mr Roxham noticed the little intimacy. Although she seemed a
pleasant
enough girl, and he had to give it to Tom, a real good looker, her clipped, educated accent riled him.

‘Have you got a chauffeur out there?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, Mr Simpson. Why?’

His father made for the door. ‘I’ll go and see if he wants something.’ He winked knowingly at her. ‘Got to look after the workers.’

Tom shot him a black look as he passed. Gran was helping with the coffee, so he whispered, ‘You’re marvellous – thanks for coming in. You could have stayed outside, just picked me up.’

She was indignant. ‘I
could not
, Tom Roxham. If you make an honest woman of me I’ll be Mrs Roxham – don’t forget – this will be my family as well.’

He couldn’t help it. He leaned down and lightly kissed her on her forehead. ‘I love you.’

His mother, just bringing steaming cups on a tray through the
doorway
, caught him, and then looked at Fay as she nuzzled her head against his arms. She paused for a second, before coming further.

‘There we are.’

She set the cups down, Gran following with sugar and a jug of milk.

Fay took the sugar and popped two lumps in and added milk. Stirring her cup she said, ‘All this has happened very suddenly. It must have come as a great shock to you both. Are you happy, Mrs Roxham – we honestly don’t want you upset, do we Tom?’

His mother smiled. ‘My dear, now that I’ve met you I can see why Tom wants to marry you – he’s a very lucky man if you’ll have him.’

His father came back in, pointedly saying, ‘Jack would like a glass of water, if that’s all right,
Miss Fay
.’

Tom had never seen anything like it before. His mother suddenly shot up, went into the kitchen, came back with a glass of water which she thrust, slopping, into his hand.

‘If you are going to behave like a silly old grouch, why don’t you jolly well sit out there with Jack – I’m talking to my daughter-in-law to be.’

In the amazed silence, Fay said, ‘You can invite
Jack
in if you like – I don’t mind, but I suspect he’ll be a bit uncomfortable.’

His father looked at the two of them in amazement, then left without another word.

Fay turned to Tom’s mother. ‘I do hope I haven’t upset Mr Roxham.’

‘Don’t worry about him, my dear, now tell me about your parents.’

‘Ah.’ She shot an uneasy glance at Tom. ‘Well, they’re waiting to meet Tom. We’re having lunch together.’

‘Are we?’ He raised an eyebrow.

She nodded. ‘We are.’ She didn’t add, ‘I’m afraid’ but she guessed he knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

Gran suddenly nudged him and said, ‘Tom, what about the’ – she nodded – ‘the you
know
.’

He knew what she was on about. He had meant it for a private moment, but he owed it to his Gran that he had the ring in the first place.

He looked at the three women in his life. ‘Very well.’

From his pocket he took out the little box. Immediately Fay’s eyes lit up in startled surprise as she realized what it was.

She looked from him to the smiling Roxham women and back again.

He flipped open the lid. The ring with its perfect little stone glinted in the morning sunshine.

‘Oh, Tom, it’s beautiful.’

He took it out and held it up into the light.

‘Where did you get it?’

He nodded at Gran. ‘My grandmother gave it to me – it was her mother’s.’

Fay turned to her. ‘Are you sure? It’s so beautiful – it must hold a lot of memories for you.’

His gran put a hand on Fay’s arm. ‘My mother would be thrilled to know it was being worn by Tom’s wife.’

Fay nodded with gratitude. ‘I will do so with pride, and think of her for the rest of my life.’

‘Come along, Tom – don’t keep Fay waiting.’ His mother had found her voice.

He started to reach for her hand, but his father, who had come back in, said sarcastically, ‘What, not going down on your knees, lad? Where she comes from the women expect that sort of thing.’

Tom hesitated but it was Fay who said, ‘I won’t have you doing any such thing, Tom Roxham.’

With that she pushed her chair back and stood up before him, flashing a glance at his father before looking Tom in the eye. ‘Well?’

He held the ring. ‘Will you marry me Fay?’

‘You know I will.’

With that he slipped it on to her finger.

She held up her hand, turning and looking at it for a few seconds, then fell into his arms. ‘It’s wonderful.’

Their tender hug widened to include the women in a joyful welter of cheek kissing, congratulations and thank yous.

His father sniffed. ‘All very touching, but the hard reality is that you are not used to our way of life, nor is our young lad here, yours. He’s going to stick out like a sore thumb among your lot and you’re far too posh for the likes of us.’

His mother exploded with horror. ‘
Father
, what a terrible thing to say.’

But her husband wasn’t going to be put off. ‘Your troubles are only just beginning, lass.’

Fay rounded on him, eyes blazing. ‘And let me tell you, Mr Roxham, that I don’t really care a damn. You are as bad as my father. A plague on
both your houses.’

He shrugged. ‘You may not care now, but what about when you are living in a house like this and with no car?’ He waved his arms around. ‘And you’ve got to do your own washing and ironing. It won’t be such fun then, will it?’

Fay squared up to him. ‘You don’t think I can do anything, do you? Well let me tell you, at boarding-school we had to take care of ourselves and we learned domestic science and needlework. I’ve always looked after my horses until very recently, getting up at six o’clock to muck out.’

His father shook his head again. ‘You’re going to have to live on Tom’s wage. I bet it’s a lot less than your allowance.’

‘My allowance!’ She nearly spat the words out. ‘You really do have me down as a poor little rich girl, don’t you?’

She put her head on one side, hands on hips. ‘You’re right I won’t be having
my allowance
when I marry, we will just have to make do. Though I intend to work when I can.’

Tom blinked. ‘As an accompanist?’

She shot him a challenging look. ‘Yes.’

Unthinking, his mother, desperately trying to steer away from the confrontation said, ‘That’s interesting. Do you go with people to things?’

Humiliated, Tom groaned, ‘Oh Mum, Fay plays the piano while people sing – you know.’

Mortified, his mother mumbled, ‘Of course. Sorry.’

Fay put her hand reassuringly on her arm. ‘Don’t be.’ Fay chuckled. ‘It sounds like that though, doesn’t it?’

Fay turned back to his father. ‘Well then, Mr Roxham, what’s next?’

His father, sorry for his wife, who was not stupid and had blundered in her desperation to stop him, tried to contain himself. ‘What about babies?’

Fay’s right eyebrow went up. ‘What about them?’

He shuffled his feet. ‘Think you’re up to looking after them on your own – no nannies – all those nappies and bottles?’

Fay grinned. The devil in her knew she was going to shock him, but she was quite pleased to, in truth.

‘Well, first the nappies – I’ll get my father-in-law to help with all that manure – he seems to be good at it. And as for the bottles, I shall be using my breasts.’

Tom went bright red.

His mother and grandmother nearly fell off their chairs, hooting with
laughter. His father looked shocked, eyes wide, then a slow grin suffused his face. ‘I don’t know how your parents are taking it, gal, but you are one formidable young lady.’

With that he held out his hand. ‘Good luck to you both.’

No hug, no kiss on the cheek, but Tom knew that – for his father – that was warmth indeed.

They stayed for another half an hour, chatting about nothing, though Tom’s father did ask about her father. He ended up shaking his head in incredulity, and muttering, ‘My old man would never have believed it – in fact, I didn’t either this morning, but now I’ve met you, Fay, and can see what a single-minded young lady you are, I don’t think our boy stood a chance. He was a goner as soon as you decided he was the one for you.’

All the women groaned, but Tom was serious. ‘That’s all right by me.’

His father finished with, ‘You’ll need to keep a tight hand on her lad. She’ll walk all over you otherwise.’

But it was said without the rancour of the start of the meeting.

Fay smiled up at Tom. ‘Oh, he has his moments. He threatened to put me over his knee once!’

‘Tom!’ His mother sounded shocked.

Tom’s face turned crimson yet again as he managed, ‘That wasn’t meant in earnest, Fay. I’d never lay a finger on you.’

She giggled. ‘I know that silly. But it was rather exciting.’

When they finally left, they all followed them out into the street. The car was surrounded by youngsters, with Simpson keeping a wary eye on them. A couple of neighbours watched from their doorways across the street and a little group of women near the corner shop could be seen whispering to each other as they got into the car.