Only a Mother Knows (28 page)

‘I told Mum that very thing last night before she reminded me that she had this evening planned. It had been organised for weeks although I can’t say I recall her mentioning it.’ He looked a little puzzled and then, seeing her downcast expression, he said, ‘I’m sorry, love.’

‘It’s all right, Ted,’ Agnes said, not wanting him to feel guilty at turning her down in favour of his mother, even if it was becoming a regular occurrence. ‘There’ll be other times, I’m sure.’

It wasn’t Ted’s fault, Agnes supposed, shrinking into her heavy coat against the damp evening air, he was just taking care of his family, in the same way she expected he would take care of her in the future, which would be lovely – if she could envisage a future, but she mustn’t think that way. Being an honourable type of bloke he wouldn’t go back on his word and disappoint his mum and she shouldn’t expect him to. Agnes realised that Ted’s mum didn’t go out all that often and enjoy herself, and it might do her the world of good and settle her nerves a bit.

‘That’s the spirit, gel, I told mum you wouldn’t mind,’ Ted said, giving her arm a little squeeze with his elbow.

‘No, Ted,’ Agnes said, trying to push her disappointment away; she really didn’t want to spoil what little time they did have together as they walked back to her lodgings. The silence between them was broken only by the sound of Ted’s contented whistle. That’s when she decided that she might go and see what the solicitor had to say after all.

‘I am sorry that the news has come as such a shock to you, my dear,’ said Mr Carlton, the senior partner of Carlton, Mending and Carlton, looking directly at Agnes. He was sitting stiffly behind the huge mahogany desk, and telling her in hushed, almost reverential tones more suited to an undertaker, that she had a father and his name was Mr John Weybridge and he lived on a farm in Surrey.

‘We have searched far and wide for you, Agnes – may I call you Agnes?’ he asked kindly and when Agnes nodded he continued, ‘It is my duty to inform you of news regarding your father.’ He looked pointedly at her now as her eyes widened. Agnes had never wondered about a father before, expecting that he had not left a forwarding address when he left her mother in the lurch, although she had always wondered who her mother was and why she had left her on the orphanage steps. But she must concentrate; he was still talking.

‘… That is why I thought it prudent to invite you into the office. I need to discuss matters in person rather than through a letter.’

Agnes sat quite still, her back straight as a ramrod, her imploring blue eyes bright with unshed tears and her mouth paper-dry as she gazed in Olive’s direction. Olive gave her a reassuring smile and Agnes turned once again to the greying man who seemed swamped behind the huge desk.

‘I have a letter here from your father who is not very well and wants to see you before … Well, suffice to say time is of the essence here. Would you like me to read the letter to you or would you prefer to read it privately?’

‘Just give me the gist of it,’ Agnes said. ‘I can keep it, can’t I?’

‘Of course you can, it is your property, and it gives details of the place where your father lives. He wants you to visit him, if you would be so kind.’

Visit him? Agnes could hardly believe her ears. Of course she wanted to visit him!

‘And my mother?’ Agnes asked when Mr Carlton passed her the envelope containing the letter.

‘There is no mention of your mother, suffice to say you will be told everything when you visit but, as I said before, time is of the essence.’ He went into more detailbefore finally rising, and Agnes, feeling dazed, rose too. She shook his hand and as if in some kind of trance she was guided out towards the busy main road by Olive.

‘Oh, just one more thing,’ said the ageing solicitor, holding the door for them. ‘Your father said he will give you your rightful birth certificate when you visit him.’

‘I’ve got a father …’ Agnes could not believe what she had just been told as she left the solicitor’s stuffy office with Olive. She wanted to shout out from the rooftops that she was not illegitimate, so great was her happiness. Although she knew she would not. It wasn’t in her nature to draw attention to herself. She’d learned that most important of lessons at a very early age back at the orphanage.

But she wasn’t an orphan! And, best of all, nor was she the tainted offspring of a dirty slut, as Ted’s mother was often fond of hinting when Ted was not around to witness her cruel insinuations. She was ‘legitimate’; the word bopped and tumbled inside her head like one of those energetic jitterbugs she’d seen the night she went dancing with Tilly and Sally after Dulcie’s wedding.

And, not only was she not illegitimate, she also had a father, a living, breathing father! Moreover, she thought excitedly, not only did she have a father – but he wanted to see her. She looked again at the address on the letter given to her by the solicitor. Surrey! Surrey? She’d never been to Surrey in her life. There must be some mistake. How did she end up in a London orphanage if she had a family who lived in Surrey?

‘Another night in, Agnes?’ Olive asked, securing a hatpin through the red band of her bottle-green WVS hat. Secretly she thought that Ted really was the limit, although she wouldn’t hurt Agnes for the world by saying so. But she didn’t like the way he left her in the lurch and was always at his mother’s beck and call.

‘Ted’s mum is going to see friends this evening,’ Agnes said simply, ‘and he has to look after his two sisters. But, it’s all right, I can still stay in and look after little Alice. I don’t mind, truly.’ After all, she thought, Ted hadn’t asked her if she would like to sit with him and his sisters whilst their mum went out. And staying in would give her a chance to wash her hair and put it in those little tin curlers and have her hair all nice for tomorrow, and she could have a really good think about going to Surrey …

‘Did your mum enjoy her night out?’ Agnes asked brightly when Ted came to pick her up at the end of Article Row to go to work, as he’d taken to doing since she’d suspected she was being followed. Ted put his head down and hid his face, making Agnes feel apprehensive. She noticed that he looked a little sheepish and her brows puckered in curiosity.

‘Mum didn’t go to her friend’s house in the end, Agnes,’ he said in a low voice.

‘She didn’t go, Ted?’

‘I was going to come around to see you but felt it was a bit of an imposition after letting you down.’

‘Oh, you should have come around, Ted.’ Agnes was so disappointed. ‘It would never be an imposition to see you.’

‘Oh, that is good of you, Agnes,’ he said when she linked her gloved hand through his arm, ‘Mum felt ever so guilty at going out enjoying herself with her friend after ruining our night that she couldn’t go in the end.’

‘But that was silly, Ted, it meant that everybody’s night was ruined.’

‘I know,’ said Ted. ‘She also worried that the girls might be upset, what with Sonia not feeling too well, and she would fret if Mum went out.’

‘You could have come around to Olive’s.’ Agnes was sorely disappointed now but as Sonia was not feeling well she didn’t want to give Ted anything more to worry about.

‘I know,’ Ted said in his usual kindly voice, ‘but I thought you would have been well settled by then.’

‘I suppose so, Ted,’ Agnes said with every ounce of patience she could muster, acknowledging he had enough on his plate without her carping on. What was done was done and that was the end of it, she supposed.

They walked in silence for a while and Agnes began to mull over their relationship in her head. She loved Ted dearly, and she wanted to love his family, too, as he so obviously did. Yet was she being selfish wanting him all to herself? She knew Ted had an obligation to his family, because the girls had no dad, and Mrs Jackson had no husband. However, a little voice in her head said there were a lot of women in the same position these days. Some were worse off and didn’t have a home or anything, Agnes silently reasoned; they were the ones that should be pitied, weren’t they? After all, Mrs Jackson had a very nice flat and a loving family around her; she should count her blessings. That’s what they were always told to do at the orphanage and Agnes made sure she counted hers every single day.

‘Mum said to tell you she’s very sorry,’ Ted said, apologising on his mother’s behalf as his long strides covered the cracked pavement.

‘That’s very kind of her to say that, Ted,’ said Agnes, feeling a little guilty for thinking such unkind thoughts about Mrs Jackson and secretly admitting that if Ted had come around last night he would probably have run a mile as her face was covered in an oatmeal face-pack that one of the girls in the underground had told her about, her head was covered with tin curlers and her feet were in a bowl of water.

‘Mum couldn’t help it really,’ Ted continued as they walked down Chancery Lane. ‘You understand that, don’t you, Agnes?’

‘Yes, Ted,’ Agnes said in a low voice.

‘I like your hair like that, Agnes.’ Ted smiled and gave her arm a little squeeze.

‘Do you really, Ted?’ Agnes tapped her bouncing curls and felt a small thrill at the compliment; everything in her world was perfect again.

‘And to make up for upsetting our plans, Mum’s invited you around for tea on Sunday. What do you say about that?’

Agnes felt her heart sink to the cosy fur-lined boots she’d had since before the war, which came out every winter. Sunday was the day she was supposed to go to meet her father. She couldn’t postpone it now after all this time.

‘She’s saved her coupons specially.’ Ted’s voice was brimming with pride. ‘Shall we say around four o’clock? I’ll come and pick you up; make sure nobody’s following you.’ He ended his remark with a little chuckle. Agnes didn’t have the heart to refuse, especially after his mum had saved all her coupons for the tea. But neither did she want to miss her appointment with her father. She had waited all her life for that day.

‘Did you hear me, Agnes?’ Ted was saying, bringing her out of her reverie with a little start.

‘I’m sorry, Ted, what did you say?’ Even in the frosty morning air Agnes could feel her temperature rise in her frozen cheeks. ‘I was miles away.’

‘You can say that again, gel,’ he answered. ‘I said, for the third time, what time do you finish this evening?’

‘Oh,’ Agnes said quickly, ‘around six, and you?’

‘Half past, wait for me in the café to walk you home.’

Agnes nodded without even thinking. The weather was turning so cold now making her huddle down in her coat, and her teeth were actually chattering against each other as they reached the steps leading down to the underground. Ted gave her a quick peck on the cheek before whistling his way down the steps, leaving Agnes with a lot to think about.

The news of Mrs Dawson’s death was a shock to all in Article Row but there was one resident who wasn’t convinced it was a leaking gas tap that had brought on her demise. Olive had to silence Nancy Black on more than one occasion when she appointed herself chief spokesperson on Archie’s private life without full knowledge of the facts.

‘Nancy,’ Olive said with the patience born of years living next door to the local busybody, ‘we don’t know that, do we?’ This particular occasion was when, in the butchers shop, Nancy had hinted to a woman from Jubilee Avenue that Mrs Dawson had been very depressed at being left alone for long hours whilst her husband was ‘on duty’ – the last two words had been loaded with such malice that Olive felt obliged to correct her there and then. Sergeant Dawson was grieving over the death of his beloved wife and yet Nancy still couldn’t resist airing her poisonous point of view. She would cause a war in an empty house, Olive thought, wondering what Archie could possibly have done to upset Nancy so much that the woman could not bear the sight of him. And even the death of Archie’s wife could not thaw the ice around Nancy’s heart.

Only a Mother Knows

Dulcie was resting when she heard a furious ringing of the doorbell. She frowned as she hurried down the stairs to the front door, but her irritation turned to anger when she saw who was making all the noise.

‘If you think you can come here and cause trouble you can think again,’ Dulcie told her sister, Edith, who was standing on the doorstep. But her anger subsided a little when she saw Edith’s expression.

‘I haven’t come to cause trouble, honest, Dulcie. Can I come in?’

‘You wouldn’t know honest if it jumped up and poked you in the eye,’ Dulcie said, still holding a grudge about her sister’s wayward behaviour. Although she had to admit she had never seen Edith looking so down before, and something in the woman’s sombre tone told Dulcie that this was no ordinary call.

Curiosity and the opportunity to swank a little were the only reasons for allowing Edith into her home, Dulcie told herself as she led the way back up the fully carpeted stairs to the luxurious flat.

Grateful David was at his chambers now, Dulcie was fully aware her husband didn’t much care for her sister and who could blame him after the tricks she had played in the past? What kind of daughter would ‘forget’ to inform her parents that she was alive after being involved in a bomb attack? And then just as importantly, come back home and waltz off with her sister’s boyfriend? It was enough to give anyone the pip.

‘In here,’ Dulcie said sharply, opening the door to the opulent sitting-room. She didn’t dare try to second-guess the reason for Edith’s visit but was sure it wasn’t a social call.

‘Oh, you’ve landed on your feet, I must say,’ Edith remarked, her feet sinking into the thick pile carpet as her sweeping gaze took in the lavish furnishings. Dulcie was delighted to see the wind was taken right out of her sister’s sails. Inside, her heart was palpitating fit to burst with justified satisfaction at Edith’s obvious amazement, whilst on the outside her features remained calm, her head held high.

Dulcie hoped she was giving the resigned impression of a woman who was so familiar with the finer things in life that her surroundings were as natural to her as breathing. After all, she reasoned, one didn’t notice the trappings of wealth when one was acquainted with it day in and day out like she was.