Two Penn'orth of Sky (4 page)

Emmy leaned back on her pillows again. Secretly, she thought he was right. Diana was a lovely name and she had already more or less decided that Gertrude was both too long and too old-fashioned to suit her little daughter. She had toyed with giving the child a short, modern name – Sarah, or Julia – followed by Gertrude, knowing how this would please her mother. Now, however, she looked suspiciously up at Peter. ‘Well, all right, if you’re really keen on the name Diana we’ll call her that, but just tell me where you found the goddess Sophia? Because I’m sure I’ve never heard of one.’

Peter laughed again, though a trifle uneasily. ‘Actually, it’s my mama’s name,’ he admitted. ‘I thought it would do no harm to keep in with my parents because, in the nature of things, they aren’t going to see much of their grandchild.’

‘Their only grandchild!’ Emmy corrected, looking fondly down at her daughter’s mossy head.

There was a short silence, then Peter spoke. ‘Well, actually, no, she isn’t their only grandchild,’ he said, half apologetically. ‘I’ve a younger brother, Ralph. He and his wife Josephine have a little boy who will
be a year old any time now. They live with my parents; the house has been properly divided so that the two families don’t have to share any of the amenities. Have I never mentioned Ralph before?’

Emmy stared very hard at him, noting the flush which stained his cheekbones and his unwillingness to meet her eyes. ‘You know very well you haven’t,’ she said accusingly. ‘Why didn’t they come to the wedding? And your mam . . . I mean your mama . . . never said a word, either.’

‘No. Well, I suppose she wouldn’t,’ Peter said. ‘Ralph and I fell out badly years ago; we’ve not seen one another since then. I didn’t send him an invitation to the wedding because I knew very well he wouldn’t come; in fact, I did wonder whether Mama and Papa would turn up – they took Ralph’s side, the same as they always have – so you can imagine, I was jolly pleased when they came after all, and even more pleased that they approved of you.’

Emmy thought for a few minutes, then spoke carefully. ‘Is – is that why you don’t go home any more, Peter? I’ve been hoping that you would take the baby and me down to Southampton the next time you get some leave, though you’ve never suggested it. I suppose it’s awkward with your brother and his wife sharing the house, but if it’s been properly divided . . . well, it would be nice to see where you were brought up.’

Peter smiled at her, the anxious look clearing for a moment. ‘Oh, I’m sure that can be arranged, my darling,’ he said easily. ‘After all, Ralph and I are both married now and we both have children. I’m sure we’ll get along fine, the way we used to when we were boys, once we all meet up again.’

‘Lovely,’ Emmy said contentedly. The baby in her
arms began to whimper and thresh about. ‘Oh dear, she’s hungry; I’d best feed her.’ She pulled her nightie aside as she spoke and guided the child’s eager mouth to the nipple, continuing to talk, though she had to raise her voice above the enthusiastic sucking sounds. ‘What exactly did you row over, Peter? It must have been a pretty dreadful quarrel to have kept you away from home for so long.’

‘Oh, it’s easy to see you don’t have brothers, my love. Brothers can quarrel over almost anything, like a couple of young stags, locking horns over who will get to eat the best grass. Ralph has a jealous nature, always has had, and resented everything my parents did for me. He works in the family business, you see, but I chose to follow my Uncle Reg, who went to sea as a young man, and rose to be captain of an ocean liner. Seeing that I was getting nothing from the business, the parents gave me a pretty handsome lump sum and Ralph . . . well, he showed his resentment, accused me of battening on Mama and Papa . . . I’m afraid I hit him, he hit me back, and from that moment on we kept away from each other.’

‘Aren’t boys and girls different?’ Emmy said wonderingly, holding her little daughter even closer. ‘I know I’m an only child, but Beryl has been like a sister to me all my life. Oh, we fell out sometimes, and in school I had a fight or two with my pal Peggy, but it never turned nasty, if you get my meaning.’

‘Yes, but as you’ve already pointed out, neither Beryl nor Peggy is your sister,’ Peter said sharply. ‘Ralph is four years younger than me and spoilt rotten, if you want the truth. Mama always says that she nearly lost him when he was two years old and got a bad attack of croup, but whatever the reason,
Ralph has
always
got his own way; not usually, or sometimes, but always.’

‘That’s very hard, certainly,’ Emmy said slowly. ‘But you will take me to visit them, won’t you, darling? And then I’m sure you and Ralph will find all the old resentment and jealousies have disappeared. Why, it will be lovely for me to have a brother and sister, and even lovelier for Diana to have a boy cousin.’

Peter was beginning to assure her that they would visit the family home as soon as Diana was old enough to take the long journey south, when a nurse popped her head round the door. ‘Did you change Baby’s nappy before you started to feed her, Mrs Wesley?’ she asked, rather accusingly. ‘Baby should be dry and comfortable before she is offered a feed.’

Flushing guiltily, Emmy admitted that she had not yet changed Baby’s nappy, and when this task was done and the nurse had left them, Peter began to talk about fetching Mrs Dickens in a taxi, so that she could spend an hour or so with her daughter. ‘And then I’ll take her out somewhere really nice for lunch,’ he said expansively. ‘You’d like me to do that, wouldn’t you, my dear?’

Emmy agreed, realising that the moment for questioning Peter about his brother and their quarrel had passed. But what did it matter, after all? It had taken him a long time to unburden himself to her, but now that it had happened she was sure there would be no more secrets. She said as much to Peter just as he was preparing to leave her and he stopped, with his hand on the doorknob, to say laughingly: ‘My darling, I would never keep a secret from you. We must share everything, always.’

After he had been gone ten minutes, it occurred
to Emmy that his last remark was meaningless. He
had
kept a secret from her, doing so quite deliberately, though she was still not sure exactly why he had let her believe him to be an only child. But I’ll find out, she told herself, snuggling down the bed again. When he takes me to Southampton, I shall jolly well ask Peter’s mama, or perhaps his sister-in-law Josephine, what’s really behind the rift between the brothers. She let her mind play with several conjectures but then slid, easily, into sleep and did not wake until the nurse came in with her lunch tray.

When Emmy answered the front door, she was delighted to find Beryl and her two small sons on the doorstep, whilst the baby, Beryl’s little daughter, slumbered in the big, old-fashioned pram. She had dropped Beryl a note a week ago, suggesting that her friend should call, and now she ushered them inside, then sent the older children to play with the two-year-old Diana in the garden, and parked the pram under an apple tree. It was a lovely day in early May and Diana was delighted to see the visitors. She thought Charlie, who was five, almost grown up, and joined in the boys’ games with great gusto whenever they came to call.

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Emmy said eagerly, pulling Beryl into the kitchen, where they could sit on the tall stools and watch the children as they played. ‘I’m so glad you could come, Bee, because I’ve got a bit of a problem. It’s more than two years since Peter told me he had a brother, and almost three since he last saw his parents, but every time I suggest we might visit his relatives, he comes up with another scheme – a week in Llandudno, or Southport, a trip
to Blackpool Zoo, even a week in the Lake District. What do you think I should do?’

‘I think you should dig your heels in,’ Beryl said frankly. ‘He’s a grand feller, your Peter. I weren’t too sure at first if you were doin’ the right thing, queen, ’cos you and young Johnny Frost seemed made for each other, just about. But I soon saw I were wrong. In a way, Johnny and you were more like brother and sister; I reckon you knew each other too well for a marriage to succeed. By the way, did you know Johnny were courtin’? He met some girl when he were on his holidays and brought her back to introduce her to his folks. I think her name’s Rhian. She’s really nice. She’s norra bit like you, queen, she’s dark an’ rather dumpy, but she’s very lively, always laughing; just right for Johnny, in fact.’

‘That’s wonderful; I hope they’ll be very happy, just like Peter and me,’ Emmy said. She found, to her slight surprise, that she meant every word. Johnny had been a good friend, but she realised now that she had never really loved him, whereas she loved Peter with all her heart. Everything she did, she did to please him, and best of all was the way he treated Diana. He was a marvellous father, always ready to play games or tell stories, yet he was also firm. When he denied Diana something, it was for the right reasons, and unlike Emmy herself, who could be relied upon to change her mind, any decision he made would be final. Emmy admired this in Peter, knowing how he idolised the child, and how comparatively brief was his time with her. She herself hated saying no to their daughter, even when she knew it was the correct thing to do.

So now she was able to say gaily: ‘If you see Johnny
do pass on my best wishes, Bee. Is he still working at the brewery?’

Beryl shook her head. ‘No, he took a white-collar job in the shipping offices some while ago, but I believe they’re going to move away from Liverpool. Old Mrs Frost told me that Rhian’s first language is Welsh, so they’ll mebbe move over the border if they get married. But what on earth are we doing, talking about Johnny Frost, when you wanted to know whether you should press Peter to visit his mam and dad? I say you should, and the sooner the better.’ She gave her friend an affectionate hug. ‘You’re too soft, young Emmy – you always were. Say you want to visit your mama and papa-in-law and stick to your guns. He loves you ever so much, queen; you’ve only got to look at him to realise that. He’ll not deny you when he sees you’re in earnest.’

The trip to visit her in-laws was actually arranged, when tragedy intervened. Mrs Dickens had moved into the house in Lancaster Avenue, as planned. Peter had had one of the bedrooms converted into a bed-sitting room so his mother-in-law could make her meals in her own room should she wish to do so, although in actual fact both Emmy and her mother were far happier sharing the kitchen and chattering away as they worked. When Peter was at home, Mrs Dickens tried to spend more time in her own room, or went and visited old friends in Nightingale Court, but for the most part she and Emmy shared both the work and the fun of looking after Diana.

It was a pleasant, October day, with the leaves on the apple tree outside the window beginning to change colour. Emmy, gazing absently out as she washed up the porridge saucepan, thought that she
ought to begin to pick the fruit. She would store it on trays, so that they could have their own apples when Christmas came. Mam will give an eye to Diana whilst I work, she told herself, but if I don’t do it now the apples will all have fallen by the time we get back from Epsley Manor.

It was only then that she realised that she had not heard a sound from her mother’s room. Mrs Dickens was usually an early riser, but she had visited old friends the previous day and had come in late. She’s having a lie-in, Emmy told herself. Diana was two and a half now, old enough to be left, securely strapped in her high chair, whilst she polished off a plateful of porridge, liberally sprinkled with brown sugar, so Emmy set off for the stairs. At the head of them, she tapped lightly on Mrs Dicken’s door, then opened it. She was smiling as she entered the room, thinking that she had caught her mother out. The older woman always claimed that she was a light sleeper who took little pleasure in her bed and much preferred to be up and about. Now, however, it seemed that she had given way to temptation and was actually enjoying an extra hour between the sheets.

However, if anyone had earned a rest, Emmy knew it was her mother, who had worked hard all her life. Indeed, it was only since she had moved into Lancaster Avenue that things had been easier for her, so Emmy decided not to tease her but went straight to the window and pulled back the curtains, turning to say cheerfully, but softly: ‘You must have been tired, Mam, because you’ve actually overslept! I couldn’t believe it when I found myself first down until I remembered how late you came in last night. If it were me, you’d say I was burning the candle at both ends, but—’

She stopped speaking abruptly. The small figure in the bed had not moved, and all in a moment Emmy knew, with dreadful certainty, that her mother would never move again.

It was at the funeral tea that Emmy met Johnny Frost’s young lady for the first time. The other girl was much as Beryl had described her, but she was also extremely pretty. She had large brown eyes fringed with very long lashes, a small, straight little nose, and the whitest teeth Emmy had ever seen. She clung to Johnny’s arm when he brought her over to introduce her to Emmy, but she soon lost her shyness and chatted away as though they had known one another all their lives.

‘Your mam was ever so nice,’ she confided. ‘Johnny and me is savin’ up and won’t be able to get married until we can afford a place of our own, so when I come to visit him I stay with Mrs Jones in Nightingale Court. Your mam was really good to Mrs J.; she’d come in at least once a week to do any marketin’ that the old lady wanted an’ she’d always tidy round and cook up a big batch of scones or fruit loaf so Mrs J. had something to offer folk who popped in. But I expect you know all this, Mrs Wesley.’

‘Yes, my mother had a good many friends in the court. It’s odd, really. She longed and longed to move out because it’s such a dark and dismal place, but I think she missed her friends dreadfully.’

Rhian laughed. ‘Aye, she used to say that all you got in the court was two penn’orth of sky,’ she said. ‘And isn’t it true? I made Johnny promise we’d never live in such a place, no matter what. I’m a country girl, used to fresh air and a bit of space around me, and I do like to feel the sun on my face. But I suppose
you have to take what you can get in a great big city like this. And you and Mr Wesley have got a beautiful house.’