The Letter (13 page)

‘Well, he could have fooled me.’

Molly softened her tone. ‘I know he can be a bit of a handful but he loves you, Tina, he really does.’

At the mention of Rick’s love for her, Tina felt herself beginning to weaken and she silently chastised herself.

‘I know he does Molly, and there is a part of me that will always love him, but I can’t go back, not now I’ve made the break.’ She knew she had to stay strong.

‘Please, Tina, just go round and see him.’

Tina had known Molly Craig long enough to know that this woman was not going to leave her shop until she had got what she came for.

‘Alright, I’ll call round there on my way home this evening. I could do with picking up some more things anyway.’

Molly breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you.’ She patted Tina’s hand in a false gesture of solidarity and Tina instinctively withdrew it.

‘I’ll tell him you’ll stop by later then.’

She heaved herself off the stool and headed out of the shop, mission accomplished. Tina was well aware she had just been manipulated, but she told herself she was only going round to collect some more things. She would make it clear to Rick that she was not coming back and there was no future for them as a couple.

Later that day, Tina stood nervously at her own garden gate while she plucked up the courage to enter. She noticed that the borders were weed-free and that the small patch of lawn had been neatly mowed. Even the stone bird bath had been filled with water and the two garden gnomes were positively gleaming. She made her way up the path and started to knock on the door with her knuckles but then noticed that the doorbell, which had been hanging by its wire for years, was now firmly screwed back into position. Molly Craig had clearly been exaggerating her son’s descent into squalor. She tentatively stuck out her finger and pressed the shiny black button. Even though she was expecting it, the loud buzzer made her jump violently. Without leaving any time for her to compose herself, Rick opened the door. Tina stared at him open-mouthed as she took in his appearance. He was wearing a pair of the latest flared jeans which emphasised his narrow waist, a checked cheesecloth shirt which Tina had not seen before and his hair had grown so that it now curled onto his face round his cheekbones. He was clean-shaven and smelled of citrus fruits.

‘Hello, Rick.’

‘Tina. It’s lovely to see you. Please come in.’

‘You too, thank you.’

They were acting like virtual strangers, not husband and wife.

The hallway carpet still bore the tram lines of the vacuum cleaner and Tina caught the smell of a casserole cooking in the oven.

‘Coq au vin,’ explained Rick, ‘But without the
vin.
That’s French for wine.’

‘I know,’ said Tina. ‘You haven’t gone to all this trouble on my account, I hope.’ She glanced down at the shiny kitchen floor and the gleaming Formica worktops.

‘Well, when Mum said you were calling round I decided to pull myself together. It doesn’t matter if you haven’t got time to stay for tea. I can heat it up again tomorrow.’

Tina put her bag on the kitchen table. ‘Well, it does smell good and I am suddenly quite hungry.’

Rick breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out a chair. ‘Can I get you a drink, a soft drink I mean, I’ve got rid of all the booze.’

‘Oh, I’ll have orange cordial then, please.’

‘Think I’ll join you.’ Rick opened the bottle and made the drinks.

‘So, how have you been?’ he asked.

‘Not bad, thanks. You?

‘About the same.’

A silence descended as they both took a sip of their squash.

‘How long is it since you’ve had a drink then?’ Tina said eventually. She hoped her tone sounded casual.

‘Since you left, so a couple of weeks, although it seems longer.’

Rick smiled and Tina saw a flash of the man she had fallen in love with. She shook herself from the reverie. ‘That’s great, Rick. I’m so pleased for you.’

Rick stood up. ‘Shall I serve the casserole?’

‘Yes, please. Do you want any help?

‘No, you just sit there.’

The meal was delicious, and after they had finished eating, Rick cleared away the dishes. Tina sat waiting for him in the lounge. He returned still clutching the tea towel. ‘All done. Would you like a cup of tea?’

Tina glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was showing the right time, indicating that Rick had remembered to wind it up.

‘No thanks, I had better get going.’

Rick looked disappointed but did not protest.

‘Well, thanks for coming, Tina. It’s been great to see you, it really has.’

‘It’s been great to see you too, Rick.’ And she was surprised to find she meant it.

It was only when she arrived back at the bedsit that she realised she had forgotten to pick up some more clothes. Never mind, she would call round again tomorrow and this time he would be off his guard, then she would really know if he had changed.

Sundays were Tina’s only day off and today, besides collecting some more clothes from her old home, she had something special to do. She was going to go to the home of Chrissie Skinner and deliver the letter that should rightfully have been hers all those years ago. Of course, Tina was not expecting it to be that simple. The chances of Chrissie still living at 33 Wood Gardens all these years later were slim to say the least, but it was a starting point. She had borrowed Graham’s battered A-Z and found the address. It was only one bus ride away and Tina felt a huge sense of excitement as she boarded the bus. She was reading the letter again as the bus conductor approached her, brandishing his ticket machine.

‘Where to, love?’

She recognised the voice and looked up.

‘Stan, how are you?’ Stan was an old colleague of Rick’s.

‘Bloody hell! Tina Craig. You don’t normally ride my route. How are you?’

She hesitated. ‘Yeah, not bad, not bad.’

‘Your old man was in the depot the other day. Looking for work again.’

Tina was aghast at this news. ‘Rick?’

‘Yeah, didn’t he tell you?’

‘Well, no, we’re separated now.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. He didn’t mention anything about that to the lads.’

‘Well, it’s only just happened, it’s a bit, you know, raw.’

‘I understand. Give him my regards if you see him though.’

‘I will. Wood Gardens, please.’

Stan punched some buttons, cranked the handle and the machine spat out Tina’s ticket.

‘See you around, love. Take care now.’

Wood Gardens were situated on the opposite side of Manchester to where Tina lived and she was not that familiar with the area. The road was laid out in a square and in the middle was a grassy area surrounded by metal railings. Tina pushed open a rusted gate and went inside. The gardens were rather overgrown and there was a park bench covered with graffiti. There didn’t seem to be any old houses around, only a row of modern looking maisonette-type dwellings which could not possibly have been around in the 1930s. Tina was beginning to think she had had a wasted journey when she noticed an old lady shuffling along the pathway, using her walking stick to clear away the brambles which were obstructing her path. She huffed and puffed as she sat down heavily next to Tina on the bench.

‘Morning,’ she said to Tina.

‘Morning.’

‘Not seen you round here before. Have you just moved in?’ The old lady nodded towards the maisonettes.

‘Oh, no. I just came here looking for someone. She used to live here many years ago. Number 33.’

‘Well, I’ve lived round here all my life. Got a good memory for names from way back. Can’t remember what happened yesterday, mind!’ The old lady laughed at her own joke, revealing a row of stained yellow teeth. ‘Now what’s her name?’

‘Chrissie Skinner, she used to live at.....’

The old lady raised her hand. ‘I know where she used to live.’ She dabbed at her eyes with her woolly sleeve. ‘I knew the family well. Chrissie’s father was the local doctor and her mother was the midwife. Chrissie helped her out. Her and her mother delivered my baby.’

Tina was taken aback by this news. ‘Oh my goodness! Well, do you know what happened to Chrissie? I have something for her.’

‘Why don’t we get a cup of tea? There’s a greasy spoon round the corner, we can have a proper chat.’

‘I’d like that.’ She held out her hand to the old woman. ‘Tina Craig, pleased to meet you.’

The old woman struggled to her feet and took hold of Tina’s hand.

‘Maud Cutler,’ she said.

Seated in the cafe with a mug of strong tea cupped in her hands Maud Cutler began to talk.

‘I’m eighty years old now, but it seems like only yesterday. It was the day before the war broke out and I went into labour with our Tommy. He wasn’t due for another month so I was naturally concerned. My husband, Jamie, ran round to the surgery to get Mrs Skinner. He was in a right panic, he was. It was very early in the morning and he was worried about waking up Dr Skinner. He had a fearful temper that man. Chrissie answered the door and, even in his panic, Jamie noticed she looked terrible. She was such a pretty little thing normally, but that morning she looked grey and tired. Anyway, because the baby was too early, we had to go to the hospital and Chrissie came along with her mother. Poor Jamie, he was so scared of losing me and the baby. I was forty-six then and he was only thirty and he was convinced we were both going to die.’ Maud paused to take a sip of her tea and Tina did the same.

‘Anyway, when little Tommy was born, Mrs Skinner took him away to revive him. He was blue you see, not breathing. Jamie went with her and the baby and Chrissie stayed with me. The nurse had to fetch her a bedpan to throw up in. I couldn’t understand it, because she had seen lots of births, but then I guessed and of course I was right. She was pregnant herself. Now this would be bad news in 1939 for anyone out of wedlock, but for someone with a father like Dr Samuel Skinner, it was disastrous. She was absolutely terrified of her father. He hated her boyfriend with a passion too. Poor Chrissie, she was literally shaking with nerves and I ended up looking after her instead of the other way round. She hadn’t even told the baby’s father.’

‘Do you know what happened to Chrissie and her baby?’ asked Tina.

Maud gazed off into the distance as though she was actually looking at the past. ‘Tragic it was. Poor Mabel Skinner was killed in the blackout. Hit by a car travelling without headlights. She just didn’t see it. Lights weren’t allowed, see?’

‘That’s awful. And Chrissie?’

‘Sent away by her father. I think he lost his mind when his wife died. Sent Chrissie to live in Ireland with his sister-in law, I think. He couldn’t live with the shame. For a man of his standing it was a disgrace. Nobody saw her again.’

‘Did you know her boyfriend?’

‘Billy? No, not really. He was a couple of years older than her, so I guess he must have gone off to war. Why do you want to know all this anyway?’

Tina showed the letter to Maud. The old lady’s gnarled hands shook as she read it. ‘She must have told Billy then. Looks like he didn’t take it too well. How did you come by the letter?’

‘I found it in his suit pocket, which had been left on the doorstep of my charity shop, but it hasn’t been posted. I just thought it was the kind of letter Chrissie should have received.’

‘I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,’ apologised Maud.

‘Not at all. You have been more than helpful and I have taken up far too much of your time already.’

‘I’ve enjoyed your company, Tina. It’s been a pleasure to talk to you.’

Tina hardly dared ask the next question. ‘And your baby? Little Tommy you say.’

‘He owes his life to Mabel Skinner. It was her skill as a midwife and the care she gave him after he was born that enabled him to survive. Every year on the anniversary of her death we put flowers on her grave. She’s buried in St. Vincent’s Churchyard. A wonderful woman, she was. I do hope you find her daughter.’

A lump unexpectedly formed in Tina’s throat. ‘Thank you, Maud. I hope so too.’

Chapter 11

Seated at her desk the next morning, Tina made a note of what she knew about Chrissie and Billy. She knew Billy had lived at 180 Gillbent Road, Manchester but did not know his surname. She knew where Chrissie had lived and that she had been sent to Ireland in disgrace. She knew the names of Chrissie’s parents and that her mother had been killed in the blackout. Mabel Skinner was buried in St. Vincent’s churchyard, and if Tina visited her grave she would be able to find out her date of birth. Maud Cutler had said that Chrissie had been sent to live with Dr Skinner’s sister-in-law in Ireland, Mabel’s sister. Tina felt an unexpected rush of excitement at the thought of playing detective. It was a welcome diversion from her other problems.

‘Morning, Tina, what are you up to?’

Linda’s greeting made her jump and she spun round quickly, stuffing the notes she had made in her bag as she did so. She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to keep Chrissie’s letter to herself.

‘Nothing. Just jotting down my shopping list. How are you? Did you have a good weekend?’

Linda slumped down at the desk opposite Tina and pushed her typewriter back so she could lay her head down.

‘I’m knackered. We went to that new club in town last night. Didn’t get home until two.’

‘On a Sunday? Well, you’ve only got yourself to blame then. Look out, here comes Mr Jennings.’

Linda sat up reluctantly and pulled her typewriter towards her as Mr Jennings stopped at her desk.

‘Morning, Linda. You look terrible.’

‘Thanks, Mr J.’

He dropped down a sheaf of papers on Linda’s desk.

‘I need that lot typing up by ten.’

Linda glanced at her watch. ‘Ten? Aww, Mr J, please, that only gives me an hour.’

‘Well, you’d better get started then.’

He strode off and Linda pulled a face behind his back.

Tina laughed. ‘Here, give some to me, I’ll help you.’

‘Are you sure, Tina? I mean you’ve got loads of your own stuff to do.’

‘Just give it here before I change my mind, and stop moaning.’

Tina’s typing was legendary in the office. Her fingers flew over the keys and the bell indicating she had finished yet another line rang out constantly. She could even hold a conversation at the same time.