Ironmonger's Daughter (23 page)

‘I s’pose ’e’s one o’ them solicitor blokes. There’s a lot of’em livin’ round ’ere, Gert.’

Gert shook her head. ‘No, I don’t fink so. All that lot carry briefcases. I’ve never seem ’im wiv a briefcase. I reckon ’e’s got a business or somefink. I reckon ’e’s werf a few bob by the look of ’is clobber.’

Freda folded her arms. ‘It’s scand’lous the way some o’ them carry on.’

‘Yer right there, Freda. It’s disgustin’ what some of ’em get up to.’

Unaware that she was being discussed by the two women, Connie climbed the stairs to the first-floor landing and let herself into the flat. After lighting the gas fire she took a towel and rubbed at her long blond hair. The fire soon warmed the room and she turned her attentions to making a pot of tea. Robert would be home soon and she wanted everything to be just so. She felt happy in a way she had never felt before and she luxuriated in the warm, comfortable feeling inside. He had made her feel wanted and needed, and she knew she loved him desperately.

The clock on the mantelshelf struck seven and Connie stretched out her stockinged feet and wriggled her toes in front of the glowing fire. The last few months had been terrible. When her mother died it had left her feeling desolate. She had been expecting it, but the rat-tat on the door and the sight of the policeman standing there in the early hours of the morning had left her shaking violently. At the funeral Helen had been overcome with grief and had almost collapsed at the graveside. Connie remembered walking back to the chapel behind her aunt and uncle. Helen had seemed to have suddenly become frail and aged and she leaned heavily on Matthew as they walked along the gravel path against a biting wind. A few days after the funeral Helen had gone down with influenza and had lost her cleaning job. Matthew had been doing very little portering on the side and money was short. As for Molly, she had seemed immune to all the misery around her and seemed unaffected by the death in the family. She had, after all, never been close to her Aunt Kate. Her attitude had been reserved throughout.

It had been a terrible end to the year. And then, only the day after the funeral, Michael came home on leave. She recalled how he had been sympathetic to her feelings of grief at first, but his attitude had changed very soon. He was no doubt eager to prove himself after his last attempt at lovemaking, and he voiced the opinion more than once that life had to go on and it was no good becoming too morbid. Connie remembered how angered she had become. She had wanted to explain to him that it wasn’t just grief and emptiness that assailed her. It was more than that. Her thoughts were now centred on someone else: a person who had entered her life and who made her feel like a woman and who had become so close to her that every minute of the day she wanted to be by his side. How could she tell Michael that she had found the love she had never dreamed possible with someone else? She had been quite unable to bring herself to tell him the truth. Michael had become upset and angered at her refusal to talk about getting engaged. Her weak excuse that she was too young had only incensed him and they had rowed constantly during his leave. Connie recalled how he had tried to kiss her with passion and how her lack of response had only angered him more. He had left her in tears of frustration at her dilemma, and he had spent part of his leave drinking with his mates.

Then there was the last evening of Michael’s leave. He had been drinking heavily and was in a foul mood. They had been to the pictures and had walked home in stony silence. The recollection of what happened next filled her with anger and sadness. Michael had forced himself upon her, kissing her roughly and clumsily attempting to arouse her. She had recoiled from his actions and pushed him away. His face had turned white with rage and he raised his hand to her. Their eyes met in burning anger and he suddenly slumped back. They both knew it was all over and he turned without another word and walked unsteadily out of the street.

A key in the lock and the front door opening and closing cut short her recollections. Robert’s footsteps sounded on the stairs and he entered the flat, his face showing relief.

‘Hello, darling. I was hoping you’d be here.’

She went into his arms and let him squeeze the breath from her body. Their lips met in a lingering kiss, and she felt the comfort and protection that only he could bring her.

‘I only just caught the train. The next one wasn’t for another two hours,’ he said as she nestled her head against his chest.

‘I’d still be ’ere, Robert. Yer know I would. Now sit down and let me get yer a nice cuppa,’ she said, smiling at him.

Robert took off his coat and threw it over a chair and then slumped down beside the fire. ‘I couldn’t get out of it, Con, I had to go. You know what it’s like when it’s family.’

‘Did it go all right?’

He ran his fingers through his fair hair and clasped his hands behind his head. ‘Mother still isn’t happy about it. Her plans for me have come rather unstuck, but I managed to convince her that it’s my life and I’ve got to run it, not her. She seemed to think my taking a flat was tantamount to disowning my family. There were a few tears, but it was all right. She saw it my way in the end.’

‘What about yer farvver, Robert?’ she asked.

Robert sighed deeply and stretched out his legs.

‘Father was okay,’ he answered. ‘He could understand why I needed to get away. In fact, he thought it might be better for me to become a little more independent. Nice of him, wasn’t it? Anyway, I’m glad it’s over. Things were getting a little strained at home.’

Connie smiled sympathetically and then hurried into the kitchen. Soon she came back with the tea, and as they sat facing each other Connie eyed him over her cup. She understood how he must have felt. She had faced a difficult situation within her own family just a few weeks ago. Helen had called in to see her and had seemed anxious to have a quiet chat with her. Connie vividly recalled what had been said.

‘’Ow yer gonna manage now, girl?’ Helen had asked. ‘I mean, yer muvver’s money paid the rent. Now that’s finished what yer gonna do?’

‘I’ll manage, Aunt ’Elen. I’ve got some of Mum’s money put away, an’ I’m gonna look around fer anuvver job. The lan’lord said I could take over the flat, as long as the rent was paid regular.’

Helen pursed her lips. There was another question she wanted answered. She was aware of Connie’s break up with Michael, and lately the girl had become very secretive about her comings and goings. She wasn’t eighteen yet and now that her mother was dead it was only right that the young girl should have someone to watch out for her welfare.

‘We don’t see much of yer at weekends, Con, an’ ter be honest, I’m concerned at yer stoppin’ out on Saturday nights,’ she said quietly.

Connie felt her face flush. She realised it was no good continuing with the deceit. Her aunt had been like a mother to her for as long as she could remember. She had a right to know the truth.

‘I don’t know ’ow yer gonna take this, Aunt ’Elen,’ she answered, looking her squarely in the eye. ‘I can’t go on keepin’ yer in the dark. I’ve not said anyfing before, ’cos I know ’ow yer worry. I fink the world of you an’ Matt, as well as Molly. Yer my family, so I’m gonna tell yer. I’ve got a fella, an’ I fink the world of ’im too. ’E’s got a flat an’ that’s where I spend me weekends. I love ’im, Aunt ’Elen.’

The elder woman looked hard at her niece. How like her mother she was. There was the same look in her eyes, the same tone in her voice that defied criticism and the same mannerisms and attitudes. It was uncanny. It seemed to her that the girl was already following in her mother’s footsteps, and if she was not careful she would make the same mistakes. There was one big difference between Connie and her mother, and of that Helen was sure. Kate Morgan’s daughter had compassion. It showed in her eyes, and it was apparent in her close friendship with Molly. The girl was overflowing with love. She lacked her mother’s hardness, and it could be her downfall.

‘Do I know ’im, Con?’ she asked.

‘’Is name’s Robert Armitage. ’E’s the factory owner’s son, Aunt.’

Helen looked shocked. ‘Christ! Yer know what yer doin’, gel? They’re not our kind. That crowd live in a different world to us.’

Connie returned her stare. ‘Listen, Aunt ’Elen. I know it’s not gonna be easy. We don’t talk the same an’, like you say, we’re worlds apart, but Robert makes me feel good. ’E don’t ask me ter change or alter the way I talk. ’E’s ’avin’ a bad time wiv ’is family over me, but it don’t stop ’im goin’ wiv me. I’m not gonna give ’im up, Aunt. ’E means too much ter me.’

Helen averted her eyes from her niece’s burning gaze. ‘I only want yer ter be ’appy, gel. That’s all I want fer yer. If yer sure in yer mind that ’e’s the one, I won’t try ter put obstacles in yer path. I’ll say one fing though. Be careful. Don’t make the same mistakes yer mum made.’

Connie reached out and touched Helen’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, Aunt. I know what I’m doin’.’

Helen smiled and leaned back in her chair. ‘So that’s why you an’ Michael split up.’

Connie’s face was serious. ‘’E knew there was somebody else, I’m sure. I didn’t tell ’im about Robert though. I jus’ couldn’t bring meself ter tell ’im.’

Helen was silent for a while, and then she asked, ‘’Ave yer spoke ter Robert about the money yer mum was gettin’ from the firm?’

Connie shook her head. ‘Yes, I asked ’im about it, but ’e said it was an arrangement made years ago wiv mum an’ Robert’s gran’farvver. That’s all ’e knew.’

‘It all seems very strange ter me, Con. Is Robert tellin’ yer the truth?’

‘I believe ’im, Aunt.’

Helen stood up and straightened her pinafore. ‘Don’t ferget what I said, Connie. Be careful. We don’t want you gettin’ yerself in trouble. I remember when yer mum got pregnant. She was goin’ ter get an abortion, but a girl out o’ John Street’ad ’ad one a few weeks before an’ she was found dead in a flat over the butcher’s in Bermondsey Lane. Whoever done it must’ave panicked when the girl started bleedin’ an’ left the poor cow ter die. It was in all the papers. I fink that made yer mum’s mind up not ter go through wiv it. Don’t forget ter look after yourself, Connie.’

 

Night had fallen, and in the cosy flat in Great Dover Street the two young people faced each other across the table. The meal was finished and they sat drinking coffee and chatting happily. Outside it was raining again and the wind was rising. They fell silent listening to the record playing.

Robert was thinking of the meeting he had had with his father before Christmas. Until then, his knowledge of the arrangement between Kate Morgan and the firm had been the same as Connie’s, and the truth had shocked him. He had been told the whole sordid story and had reluctantly agreed with his father that Connie was not to be told anything, even though she had questioned him about the money. Kate Morgan’s silence had been bought all those years until her death. It would serve no purpose to let her daughter into the secret after Kate had agreed never to tell anyone. Nevertheless, he didn’t like deceiving Connie.

The gramophone record finished and Robert got up to turn it off. He came back and took Connie’s hand as they nestled down together on the well-padded sofa, her head resting in the crook of his arm, and her hand lying across his chest.

‘You ’appy?’ she asked dreamily.

In answer he kissed her gently on the top of her head and she sighed.

After a few moments Robert said, ‘Connie, I’ve been thinking. Wouldn’t you like to give up your work?’

‘Give up work?’

‘Yes. You could stay here. I’ve money enough. You wouldn’t have to worry about clothes and things. I could give you everything you’d need.’

She pulled herself upright and glared into his blue eyes. ‘You listen ter me, Robert Armitage. I’m not goin’ ter let you keep me. I wanna earn me own money. It’s important to a girl. I wanna be able ter buy fings wivvout ’avin’ ter keep on askin’ you.’

He saw the indignant look on her face and he grinned widely. ‘I want to take care of you, buy you things. I love you, Connie.’

‘You are takin’ care of me,’ she replied. ‘You could always buy me a little present once in a while, but I wanna be independent an’ earn me own money, Robert, so let’s ’ear no more of it.’

‘Okay,’ he said, with mock seriousness. ‘I’ll never mention it again.’

They became quiet again. Connie’s head was resting against his chest and she listened to the steady thump of his heart.

Suddenly she looked up into his eyes, as if reminded of something. ‘Do yer fink there’s really gonna be a war?’

‘What made you ask that, Con?’

‘I dunno. There’s a lot o’ talk about a war. If there is, will yer ’ave ter go away ter fight?’

‘Don’t let’s talk about war,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘It’s not the subject I want to get into on a cosy Saturday night when I’m entertaining my lustful mistress.’

Connie looked up into his smiling blue eyes. ‘Is that what yer see me as, a lustin’ mistress?’

Robert laughed loudly and she felt the rumble in his chest. ‘You’re my lover, my mistress, my scarlet woman. You’re sharing my secret bedchamber, did you not know? Be warned. To spurn my advances could mean the Tower.’

Connie did not laugh at Robert’s jest. ‘You fool,’ she whispered as she snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes. It felt good just to be with him, but she could not still her thoughts. She remembered the first time she had gone to meet him and the feelings which ran through her then. She did not want to suffer the heartache and pain her mother must have endured. She wanted to make these magic moments last, and keep him, against the pressures of his family and the temptations of other more sophisticated women. Robert hadn’t spoken of the future. He hadn’t talked about marriage or even mentioned getting engaged. He had remained light-hearted and casual about their affair. It was as though he saw their relationship as one to savour for the moment. He avoided mentioning what was to come in the days ahead and laughed off her fears and apprehensions. Maybe he saw the future and feared it? Maybe he shared her fears and refused to face them, lest the realisation spoil their treasured moments together. She felt him slide his hand from beneath her neck and she watched him go to the fire. He came back and bent over her. She felt his strong arms around her as he lifted her from the sofa and she nestled against him, feeling the warmth of his body as he carried her to the bedroom.