Monday Girl (42 page)

‘I haven’t been to the yard yet. I’ve been enjoying my family too much, but I’ll go next week. I think it’ll be OK though, because I heard they’re taking all the returning warriors back. Not that they all returned, of course,’ he added, sadly.

No, Renee thought, they didn’t all return, and Jack Thomson was only one of many. She was rather surprised that Mike hadn’t mentioned him, but he probably knew about it.

Anne stood up and moved towards the scullery. ‘You’ll have a cup of tea?’

‘No thanks, Mrs Gordon. We had one before we came out. We’ve a few friends to go round yet, and we’re going to Turriff tomorrow to see my mother and father.’

‘They’re potty about young Michael, too,’ Babs laughed.

‘It’s a wonder he’s not spoiled, with Mum and Moira and Tim all running after him.’

When they stood up to leave, they kept talking for another five minutes before they actually went out, promising to let Anne and Renee know when they found a house, and when Mike and Tim started work. At the door, Mike turned to Renee. ‘I was sorry to hear that there’s never been any word about Jack.’

She kept a firm grip of herself. ‘Yes, it’s very sad.’

She sank on to the settee when she went inside, but Anne said, ‘I think we’ll have that fly-cup ourselves.’

Renee was thankful that another day’s work was over, as she ran down the stairs and opened the door on to Union Street. The pavements were still covered in slush which was hardening into ridges with the keen frost, and she was glad she had put her boots on in the morning. Still standing in the doorway, she opened her handbag to take out her purse and extracted some coppers for her bus fare.

Turning up the collar of her tweed coat, and holding her head down against the piercing January wind – she stepped out on to the pavement. A pair of legs seemed to be blocking her way, but when she moved to one side to avoid them, they moved along with her.

‘Renee.’

The all-too-familiar, unwelcome voice made her head jerk up and a great sickness welled up in her as she found herself looking into the near-black eyes of the last person on earth she wished to see. ‘Go away,’ she said, coldly.

‘We’ve nothing to say to each other now. You should realise that.’

‘Please, Renee?’ His old charm was turned on as he laid his hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off, angrily. ‘I don’t know how you’ve the nerve to come back, Fergus Cooper.’

‘You know why, I love you.’ If she hadn’t known him for what he was, his earnest words, and humble pleading look, would have made her capitulate blindly, but she’d suffered too much because of this man. She glared at him, her icy, clinical eyes taking in every detail of his appearance. His dark hair curled in exactly the same way over the collar of his cheap raincoat, his sensuous mouth was open just far enough to reveal his pearly-white teeth, his hypnotic eyes were caressing her, but they’d lost their spell and she felt nothing but contempt for him.

Brushing past him, she moved towards the bus stop, praying that she wouldn’t have long to wait.

‘Don’t go, Renee.’ He hurried to walk alongside. ‘I’ve had time to think about what I did to you, and I’m really sorry. It was always you I dreamt about in the desert, and six years is a long time. You can’t turn your back on me now.’

‘Can’t I?’ She kept on walking. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone? Her stamina was at a low enough ebb without having to cope with this.

‘I swear I’ve changed. It was always you I loved, but I wanted other excitement as well. I know I was a rotter, but I’ll be faithful to you now, if you say you still love me.’

She stopped abruptly, and he stood, uncertainly, a step ahead. ‘Why was it you that came back?’ she asked, bitterly.

‘The world could do without scum like you, Glynn’s been seriously wounded and Jack’s been killed. Both of them good men, not like . . .’

‘Jack Thomson killed? I’m sorry to hear that, he was a decent bloke.’ Fergus seemed to be genuinely affected. ‘But who’s Glynn?’

‘He’s my husband.’ It was safer not to tell him about the impending divorce. There was no need to let Fergus know that his curse had worked. Let him think she was happily married; that might get rid of him, if he had any decency in him whatsoever.

He was studying her sadly. ‘I never really imagined you marrying another man, Renee, except Jack, maybe, for you were always chummy with him, and he fancied you, but nobody else.’

‘Well, you were wrong, weren’t you? Just go away and leave me alone.’ She had taken a few steps before she remembered something she hadn’t thought about for years, and halted again. ‘What about Jeanette Morrison and your daughter? Or had you conveniently forgotten about them?’

‘Jeanette? She got a girl, did she?’

‘Didn’t you even know that?’ Renee’s voice dripped with cold sarcasm.

‘I knew she had the baby – I’ve been paying for it for years but I didn’t know it was a girl.’ His wary expression changed, and he grasped her hand. ‘Can’t you divorce your husband, Renee, so we can . . . ?’

She took a deep breath and wrenched her hand from his grip. He had touched on her most vulnerable spot. ‘No, I can’t! It’s no use! If you’re a reformed character, like you say, go to Jeanette. That’s the only decent thing for you to do.’ He let out a protracted sigh. ‘How am I going to bear it, loving you and knowing you’re married to somebody else?’

‘You’ll live!’ Her tone was cutting.

‘So it’s goodbye for ever?’

‘For ever . . . and I really mean it.’

‘Goodbye for ever, then . . . Monday girl.’ His voice was softly seductive.

Her stomach lurched, and she struggled to avoid showing her shocked reaction to his blatant effrontery. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it affected her.

Filled with chagrin because even his last two calculated words had failed to break her down, Fergus sketched a mocking salute, then walked away. Renee was still trembling when she reached home, and Anne was hotly indignant when she learned about the encounter.

‘I don’t know how that man had the nerve to . . .’

‘He’s the nerve for anything, Mum,’ the girl interrupted.

‘I told him he should go to Jeanette Morrison and his daughter, but I doubt if he’ll take my advice.’ Nine days later, however, Anne received a letter which astonished and touched her, but she handed it to Renee without saying anything.

Dear Mrs Gordon,

I thought you would like to know that Fergus came back, after all this time without a word. He asked me to marry him, and I said yes because I still love him. He says he can’t settle in Aberdeen now, so we’re going to the south of England somewhere after the wedding – maybe Southampton or Portsmouth. I’m very happy, for I’m sure he does love me, and he thinks the world of Sheena. I won’t write to you again, but I’m looking forward to my new life.

Yours,

Jeanette Morrison (soon to be Cooper)

‘Well!’ Renee raised her eyebrows. ‘So he did do it, after all. And maybe having a wife and a daughter’ll be enough to keep him on the straight and narrow. I’m pleased for her, anyway.’

Anne nodded her head. ‘All’s well that ends well. And it’ll maybe all end well for you, too, one of these fine days.’

Her daughter made a moue. ‘I can’t see how.’

When Renee went to bed that night, she looked round her attic bedroom, remembering how her mother had suggested that they redecorate it. There was no wallpaper to be had, so they’d painted the walls in pale grey then used bits of sponge to dab on a pattern in lilac, and it still looked fresh and professional. What a pity that Glynn had never seen it. It had been done while he was still missing, she recalled sadly – at the time when she was still trying to convince herself that he hadn’t been killed. Well, he hadn’t been, but he was lost to her as irrevocably as if he had. His conscience wouldn’t be pricking him, of course, because he probably believed that she would have turned to Jack Thomson for comfort, but Jack was really dead.

The irony of it all suddenly hit her. Of the three men she’d ever loved, why had Fergus Cooper been the one who came back to her after the war – the one who had caused her so much heartache and trouble, the one she’d prayed would never enter her life again? And now, he was to be starting a new life, in a new city, with a wife and daughter. Jeanette Morrison’s dream had been realised, although she might live to regret it; Glynn had found true love at last, but Renee Williams, n
é
e Gordon, was left with only memories, good and bad. Then the tears came – hot, burning tears, which didn’t even begin to cleanse the bitterness from her soul.

Fortunately, she soon became caught up in the excitement of Sheila Daun’s preparations for her wedding. The groom-to-be, Chris Darborne, was the sailor she’d met the same night as Renee had started talking to Fred Schaper. They had done most of their courting by mail, with only occasional meetings over the years, for a few days at a time, but Chris, like Tim Donaldson originally, had been unwilling to tie his girlfriend down until peace was restored to the world. Sheila was ecstatically happy, and could concentrate on nothing but the forthcoming nuptials in March. She had asked Renee to be matron-of-honour, and stressed the fact that Chris had two brothers, hinting that the girl might find solace with one of them. Her colleague, however, felt that her capacity for love had been exhausted, and refused to rise to the bait.

A week before Sheila’s great day, on a Saturday morning, Renee and her mother were debating on whether or not it was too wet to go out shopping, when the doorbell rang. Anne went to answer it, and the girl could hear her talking animatedly to someone before heavy footsteps sounded along the hall. Renee looked round idly when the living-room door opened, then jumped up and ran to throw herself at the tall figure who came in with his arms held out, his adorable

‘cow’s lick’ standing out from his sandy-coloured head.

‘Jack! Oh, Jack!’ She was laughing and crying, and the force of her hurtling body made him rock on his feet.

‘Steady!’ he grinned. ‘I’ve brought somebody with me that I’m sure you’d like to meet.’

Her face fell, and her heart, racing from seeing his beloved face again when she had thought him dead, almost stopped beating. He must be married, and was about to introduce her to his wife! That was why he’d stopped writing. She stepped away from him when she realised that a stranger was standing in the doorway with her mother – a small woman with bright eyes and a beaming face. My God, the girl thought, she’s old enough to be his . . .

‘Renee,’ Jack was saying, ‘I’d like you to meet my mother.’

Mrs Thomson shook her hand vigorously. ‘I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time. My Jack’s been in love with you for years, since long before he went in the army. A mother’s intuition’s never wrong, you know.’

Renee looked from her to Jack in amazed wonder, her confused brain not taking in what was happening. She’d given up all hope of ever seeing him again . . . and he couldn’t possibly know that her marriage was over, so why had he brought his mother to meet her, and why was the woman saying these things?

Jack laughed at her puzzled face, knowing exactly what was running through her mind. ‘Don’t look so flabbergasted, Renee, my darling. It’s not a ghost you’re seeing. I’m alive and kicking, and I haven’t got second sight, either.’

Anne moved nearer. ‘I wrote to Jack’s mother after you decided to let Glynn have his divorce, Renee. I always knew, deep down inside, that Jack was safe and well, and I was sure he’d go home to Peterhead someday.’ Her daughter’s grateful expression made up for all the weeks she had spent wondering if she had done the right thing.

‘Oh, Mum, I’ll never be able to thank you enough.’

‘Mind you,’ Anne said, ruefully, ‘I wasn’t too sure about it when I did write. You hadn’t heard from Jack for years, and there had been no word from Mrs Thomson that he’d written to her, either, or was home, and he might have been killed for all I knew. But some sixth sense kept telling me he was still alive.’

The young man’s face was much more than just alive when he said, ‘I’d have come straight to Aberdeen last night, when Mum told me about the divorce, but I’d to wait till this morning to get a bus. Even my love for you couldn’t give me wings.’

Renee gave a tremulous laugh and he placed an arm round her. ‘And this terrible woman wouldn’t let me come on my own,’ he added, turning to put his other arm round his mother, while Renee pulled Anne into the tight group, too.

Mrs Thomson laughed with delight. ‘Of course I wouldn’t let him come on his own. I wanted to see you, Renee, to make sure you really loved my Jack.’

‘I do, Mrs Thomson,’ the girl cried. ‘I really do love him.’ The woman held up her hand. ‘You don’t need to tell me, it was in your eyes when you turned round first and saw him.’

The two mothers exchanged knowing smiles when they moved out of the circle, leaving Renee and Jack gazing at each other, completely oblivious to everything except their love and their happiness at being together again.

Anne’s eyes were moist when she said, softly, ‘Take Jack up to your own sitting room, Renee. I’m sure you’ve plenty to speak about that you don’t want us old fogeys listening to.’ Renee dragged her eyes away from Jack. ‘We do have things to say to each other, though it wouldn’t matter if you two mums heard them.’

‘Get up the stairs and show him how much you missed him,’ Anne ordered, her smile broad.

Mrs Thomson nodded. ‘You too, Jack. You’ve a lot of wasted time to make up for.’

‘What choice have we?’ Jack pretended to look helpless as he led her to the door. Once upstairs, he turned much more serious, even looking apologetic as he sat down. ‘I’m afraid I owe you some sort of explanation, Renee.’

She stood in front of him, alarmed by his solemn manner.

‘No, darling. You don’t have to explain anything. You’re here, and that’s all that matters.’

He shook his head. ‘Please listen to me. I have to tell you everything. We must be completely honest with each other.’ Her blood ran suddenly cold. What on earth had he done that he felt compelled to confess?