Homecoming (21 page)

‘But they do keep you here after your baby's born, don't they?' Emily asked anxiously.

‘Yes, but they move you to a room at the back of the house, where the babies' crying doesn't disturb the rest of us at night.'

‘Then we won't see the babies?'

‘Not much of them, unless you walk in the garden on a fine day, then they're put outside in their prams. But you'll see more than enough of your own once it's born. For six weeks, that is. You have to do everything for it – bath it, feed it, nurse it, change it, see to it when it cries in the night.'

Until Emily had seen Judy's brother, she hadn't considered her baby as a being in its own right, simply a disaster that was going to ruin her life. And, although she had younger sisters, she'd had very little to do with them. They had been their nanny's responsibility and, on her mother's orders, the nanny had kept them under control and out of sight until they had reached what her mother called ‘a civilised age'. Uncertain as to how she was going to feel when her baby was born, she'd hoped that a glimpse of one of the other girls' babies might have prepared her in some way.

‘Ann is right about one thing,' Jean murmured. ‘We are all in the same predicament and, while I might not want to remain in touch with the friends I've made here for obvious reasons, I'm glad of their company now.'

Emily glanced around the room. Most of the girls were visibly pregnant, a few, including Ann, looked as though they were about to have their babies at any moment to her inexperienced eye. ‘I never thought I'd end up in a place like this,' she whispered despondently.

‘It's a world away from the moonlight and romance that got us into this mess,' Jean observed. ‘And when I get out of here, I'll never believe a single thing a boy tells me, ever again. Not even if he has a certificate from a bishop to prove he's telling the truth.'

Lily had hung up her mac and was changing out of her shoes and into her slippers when she sensed someone watching her. Turning, she saw Martin standing in the kitchen doorway.

‘Hello.'

When she remained silent, he blurted the first thing that came into his head. ‘I'm sorry.'

Bursting into tears of sheer relief, she ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He dropped a kiss on to the top of her head and held her tight.

‘I gave Brian a cheque –'

‘I know. He called this afternoon and after telling me how lucky I was to have you for a wife, offered it back to me.'

She pushed him away and looked up at his face. ‘Did you take it?'

‘No.' He hugged her again. ‘I'm not at all sure that we're doing the right thing –'

‘I am,' she said fiercely.

‘Well, either way, we're committed now.' He glanced at his watch. ‘Go up and change into your glad rags. I'm taking you out for dinner.'

‘You are?'

‘I booked a table for eight o'clock in the Mackworth. We'll have a drink first in the lounge.'

‘Can we afford it?'

‘No,' he sighed. ‘But as we'll be able to afford it a whole lot less once the garage opens, we'd better make a night of it. I've a feeling that we're going to need the memories.'

Chapter Eleven

‘Are we going to eat like this every night when we're married?' Sam forked the last of the slice of cream sponge on his plate into his mouth and pushed his chair back from the table.

‘No.' Judy refilled her sherry glass.

‘And that's because?'

‘I won't have time to cook.'

‘We haven't talked about you giving up work yet.'

‘And we won't, because the subject's not up for discussion,' she warned. ‘I am going to carry on working once we're married, full stop.'

‘And what happens when I work odd shifts, like I am now?'

‘You'll cope, just as you're coping now.'

‘Who says I cope?'

‘If you can't, then we'll have to pay someone to do your washing and ironing and cook your meals.' She cleared their dishes into the kitchen and stacked them next to the sink. Much as she hated getting up in the morning to a messy kitchen, she couldn't face washing them. Returning to the living room, she picked her glass and the bottle of sherry, and curled up on the sofa.

‘You're serious, aren't you?' he questioned in amazement. ‘You'd pay someone to do your housework for you?'

‘Just as I pay girls to work in the hairdressing salons, yes,' she answered flatly. ‘It makes sense, Sam. My mother and I draw good wages from the salons, so why shouldn't I use some of it to employ someone to do the things I hate, like housework and laundry?'

‘You hate housework?'

‘That surprises you?'

‘Yes.'

‘I have no objection to you doing it.' She looked sideways at him. ‘Go on, say it.'

‘What?'

‘It's women's work.'

‘It is, isn't it?' He set his glass of beer on the coffee table and joined her.

‘That remark doesn't even warrant an answer.' She threw a cushion at him before refilling her sherry glass.

‘I've never seen you drink this much before.' He caught the cushion and set it aside.

‘I am not drunk.'

‘I didn't say you were, but one sherry is usually your limit, you've had five.'

‘Now you're counting.'

‘I didn't mean it that way.' He slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘Is the bed aired?'

‘It was when I slept in it last night.'

‘Good.'

‘Where did you park your bike?'

‘Two streets away and before you ask, no one saw me creep in here.'

‘Just because you didn't see any curtains twitching …'

‘Curtains, nothing, you're talking to an experienced policeman who can sense when he's being watched, so, pretty please, can I stay the night?'

‘Not all night.' She finished the sherry in her glass and poured herself another.

‘Why not? I don't have to get up in the morning. Mike's doing my shift.'

‘I don't want to risk someone seeing you here tomorrow morning.'

‘Like who?'

‘I have neighbours.'

‘Who don't know I'm here. Come on, Judy,' he persuaded, ‘as neither of us have to work tomorrow, we could have a lie in, then while you have a long, lazy bath, I'll do the washing up and cook brunch for us before we pick up your mother and Roy, and go to visit my mother. What do you say?'

‘All right,' she murmured, too tired and full of sherry to argue. Tomorrow they were going to discuss their wedding arrangements with their parents and in a few weeks they'd be spending every night together. The sooner she became accustomed to sleeping in the same bed as him, the sooner she'd adjust to married life.

Although the duty member of staff had propped the window sash open the regulation three inches before pulling the curtains, the air in the bedroom was fetid and stale. It was also freezing.

Emily shivered beneath a single blanket in her cramped, narrow bed, eyes wide open as she stared blindly up at the shadows that shrouded the ceiling. Around her, the seven other women breathed, snuffled and in one case, snored loudly in their sleep and she hated them simply for being there.

Her mother had insisted that all her children move into a room of their own on their second birthday, and even on the frequent occasions when she'd stayed over with friends, she had generally been given a guest room to herself. The only times she had shared with anyone were on the holidays she had taken with Angie and her other girlfriends when they had doubled up in French and London hotels – and the times that she and Robin had sneaked into one another's rooms at house parties.

Thoughts and memories of Robin tumbled in disarray through her mind, dating back to the time she had returned from her first – and last – London season with her mother. Robin appearing darkly handsome in a dinner jacket at Larry's twenty-first birthday party; Robin asking her to dance on the wooden stage set up in front of the band in the marquee on her parents' lawn; Robin feeding her champagne and strawberries as he had teased her and Angie. She had always liked him but that night she had fallen in love. And when he had invited her to the theatre shortly afterwards, she hadn't doubted that he had been hit by the same thunderbolt as her.

Robin being tender, romantic, undressing her and making love to her for the first time in his bedroom and, from that moment on, every time they met. Robin introducing her to peculiar books full of even more peculiar illustrations and persuading her to join him in what he called ‘adventures', which she had agreed to because she was besotted with him.

Robin slipping a ring on to her finger at their engagement party in her parents' house in front of both their families and friends while a band had played ‘With This Ring' – his choice. Occasionally afterwards she had felt that he was taking her for granted, but she had assumed that no relationship, even perfect loving ones like theirs, could be sustained on that initial breathtaking plane. And even when he had neglected her when they were out with friends or at parties, he had always ended the evening by making love to her. Even when her father went to prison and the invitations to social functions dried up, he had insisted their engagement continue right up until the moment she had told him she was pregnant. With hindsight, she realised that after that conversation his whole attitude to her had changed.

A tear fell from her eye. The knowledge that Robin no longer cared for her, and possibly never had in the way that she had loved him, was extraordinarily painful. But she forced herself to face facts. He had abandoned her as soon as she told him she was carrying his child, and that was not the action of the man she thought she knew. If he truly loved her, he would have stayed with her at the party and remained at her side throughout all the snubs and jibes. He would never have left her to Angie and Thompson – or had he been in on their scheming from the beginning? Had the three of them planned the events of that night so he could free himself from the double scandal of her pregnancy and her father's crimes?

She turned over in the bed and buried her face in the pillow, as a second tear fell from her eye.

Maggie stretched out an arm and held out a handkerchief. ‘Take it, it's clean.'

Emily managed a wan smile and folded it into her palm.

‘You'll get used to this place. When you leave, it will seem like a bad dream. A couple of years and you will find it difficult to believe that you were ever here.'

Clutching the handkerchief, Emily curled into a tight foetal ball, facing away from Maggie's bed. ‘I hope so,' she muttered, lacking the courage to look that far forward.

‘Judy …' Sam muttered sleepily.

‘Go back to sleep,' she whispered, as she stole from the bed. She went into the bathroom, locked the door, threw up the toilet seat and vomited the sherry and most of the meal she'd eaten earlier into the toilet.

For all the time and care she'd expended on cooking, decorating the table, and getting in the drinks, her mother's advice hadn't worked. It hadn't been any easier for her to accept Sam's lovemaking than it had been the very first time she had allowed him into her bed.

‘I thought pink would be nice for the bridesmaids,' Ena Davies, Sam's mother gushed, as Joy with Billy on her lap, Roy, Judy and Sam sat around the tea table she'd prepared for them. ‘And I've found the perfect shade of figured nylon. Sam has six cousins. The oldest is ten, the youngest two. They will look so sweet walking down the aisle behind you in pairs, with crowns of pink rosebuds in their hair and carrying bouquets of pink roses.'

‘Don't you think pink crowns, bouquets and dresses will be too much pink?' Judy enquired diplomatically.

‘These sandwiches are ham and cress, the ones next to your plate, salmon and cucumber, Mr Williams.' Ignoring Judy's reaction, Ena fussed over Roy.

‘Please call me Roy.' He gave Judy a look of commiseration that also managed to suggest forbearance, and took a sandwich from the plate Ena handed him.

‘Roy,' she repeated coyly, fluttering her lashes, ‘and you must call me Ena.'

‘Thank you, Ena.'

Unable to keep a straight face, Joy concentrated on Billy, who was subdued in the unfamiliar surroundings.

‘But you must have relatives that you want to invite to be bridesmaids as well, Judy?' Ena passed Joy a paper napkin.

‘No.'

‘Probably just as well.' Ena poured out the tea and handed cups down the table to her guests. ‘Six is a tidy number. I went into town yesterday and picked up a swatch of that material I was telling you about.' She delved into her bulging pinafore pocket and pulled out a square of almost luminous, pink figured nylon. ‘Of course you can't see the full flower pattern from this, so you'll have to take my word how pretty it is. If you pull out that drawer behind you, Joy … Not that one, the next one down. There's a pattern on top for a bridesmaid's dress that Mrs Howells next door used for her daughter's wedding. The minute I read Sam's letter telling me that you'd been to see the vicar to fix the date, I went round to her house and borrowed it. Have you thought about a dress yet, Judy?'

‘No.'

‘Of course you haven't,' she broke in blithely, answering her own question. ‘How silly of me, you'll want me to help you choose it. And there'll be all the accessories, your veil, headdress and so on. We'll go shopping together.' She beamed at Joy, who was watching Judy intently and wondering just how much longer it would be before she'd lose her temper.

‘Please, hand Judy the pattern, Joy.' She waited until Judy took it. ‘Isn't it pretty? Mrs Howells's daughter's dress was cut along similar lines …'

‘It's ballerina length.' Judy set the pattern aside.

‘Such a nice length for a bride and bridesmaids, don't you think?' Ena babbled, insensible to Judy's disapproval. ‘No long hems to trail in the mud or trip little ones up. Mrs Richards – that's our local dressmaker – made Mrs Howells's daughter's dress as well as the bridesmaids. If you like, I could ask her if she'll make yours. She's very busy of course, booked up for weeks ahead …'

‘I'd like to buy my dress.'

‘Given the short time we have to arrange everything, it might be just as well.' Ena nibbled a crumpet.

‘And the bridesmaids' dresses,' Judy added.

Ena giggled. ‘Now that would be extravagant. Besides, I've already settled with Mrs Richards that she will make them. Now about the mothers' outfits. I think they should be bought together with the bride's dress to make sure they'll look well on the photographs. Not exactly matching, you understand … do try one of those scotch eggs, Joy. I made them myself. I'll give you the recipe. Sam loves my scotch eggs, don't you, Sam?'

Sam grunted agreement through a full mouth.

‘Now where was I? Of course, the hotel. Sam said you've booked the reception.'

‘In the Mackworth.'

‘I hope they have a big room. There'll be one hundred and eleven coming from our side of the family.'

‘One hundred and eleven,' Joy echoed faintly.

‘We're a big family and everyone loves Sam, so they all want to be there. Of course that figure includes one or two close friends. Now the menu, Judy, I think chicken. Don't you agree, Joy? Everyone likes chicken and it always goes down so much better than pork, lamb or beef at a wedding. And prawn cocktails to start. Your cousin Doris had those at her wedding last year, Sam, do you remember? They looked ever so nice. Smart, different and less messy than soup. Easier for the little ones to eat, although I'm never sure prawns are good for them. Bit too sophisticated, don't you think, Joy?'

‘I –'

‘Peas and carrots for vegetables, with roast and boiled potatoes, and stuffing, naturally.'

‘Naturally,' Judy broke in, wondering if her future mother-in-law's mouth would start unravelling if she talked any longer.

‘And ice cream for afters, everyone likes ice cream. Coffee of course. And flowers. Have you thought about the flowers, Joy?'

‘Judy and I –'

‘Lilies look good at weddings; they would go with the pink rosebuds too, you can have both in your bouquet, Judy. We have ever such a good florist in Neath. She does a lovely bouquet. I can see it now, white lilies and a spattering of pink rosebuds to pick up the colour in the bridesmaids' dresses. You can have them in your headdress as well. And in vases on the tables at the wedding breakfast. Your cousin Sidney –'

‘Who's Sidney?' Sam interposed between bites of pork pie.

‘Ernie and Mabel's son, he has a taxi business and he's bought two posh cars that he hires out for weddings. He'll give them to you at discount if you ask him. Oh and I've got the address of that hotel for you.'

‘What hotel?' Sam asked blankly.

‘The one in Blackpool your cousin Sandra honeymooned in. She said it was lovely, a real home away from home –'

‘I don't want to go to Blackpool.'