Whispers of Love (16 page)

‘He never hits Marlene though, does he?' Christabel asked.

‘No, that's one good thing. He does treat Lilian very badly, though; he's quite a brute when he doesn't get his own way, especially when he's been drinking.'

‘Perhaps you should ask Lewis to have a word with him,' Christabel suggested. ‘Would you like me to mention it to him?'

‘No.' Her mother shook her head. ‘I haven't told him about it because I know how busy he is. I am sure that if I did, he would only say that what goes on between husband and wife is their affair and refuse to interfere.'

When Christabel went to see Lewis she fully intended mentioning the matter, but all her attention was taken up by seeing Kay again. She, too, had changed in the ensuing years and was now a leggy nine-year-old and rather quiet and reserved. She had straight dark hair in a pigtail and a rather severe fringe, and Christabel felt it was like looking at one of the photographs
of herself at that age. There was still a special affinity between them and Kay seemed to be delighted to see her. She even said how much she'd missed her and was eager to tell her all about what she did at school.

The weekend passed all too quickly and even though Alex hadn't whispered the magic words she was waiting to hear, she considered it to have been a pleasant interlude.

As she fastened the locks on her suitcase and prepared to leave she wondered if he might propose on the way home.

Humming to herself she went downstairs and was pleased to find Alex deep in conversation with her mother. They stopped talking as she walked into the room and Christabel sensed tension in the air. She wondered what they'd been talking about and looked from one to the other enquiringly, but neither of them made any attempt to enlighten her.

The weekend was far from being the success Christabel had hoped it would be. Alex hadn't proposed; in fact, he had seemed to be on edge and was anxious to get back to London. The only good thing about the trip had been seeing Kay again.

When she asked Alex if he'd enjoyed their visit, he was so curt that she felt mystified. He didn't seem to want to talk; it was as if his mind was fully occupied with some problem. When she asked him what was worrying him he was so evasive that she felt uneasy and wondered
if it was what her mother had said to him that had upset him so much.

They were both silent on the return journey. When they reached London she couldn't believe she had heard aright when Alex said he would drop her back at George's flat.

‘I have a business meeting to go to in the morning and I need time tonight to prepare what I am going to say, so I won't be very good company,' he explained.

‘All my make-up and things are at your flat,' she protested.

‘You can come and collect them some time tomorrow,' he told her brusquely as he lifted her suitcase out from the back of the Alvis and handed it to her.

‘Collect them? What on earth do you mean, Alex?'

‘George will be home in a couple of days' time, so you'll need to get things ready for him. Can you come and collect your stuff in the evening?' he added crisply, ignoring all her questions as he slipped back behind the wheel and put the car into gear ready to drive away.

Christabel didn't answer. She felt too choked by tears to trust her voice. She had no idea what had happened between them that was making him react in such a way and too much pride to question his decision.

Whatever could her mother have said to him that had made him change towards her so
suddenly? she wondered, feeling bewildered and utterly distraught. It was as if Alex had no feelings for her or her welfare at all. He was virtually throwing her out on to the street.

As all her expectations of marriage to Alex came crashing down around her she was now positively looking forward to George coming out of prison.

Christabel soon discovered that prison life had changed George. Gone was his easy-going, happy-go-lucky approach to life. He was moody, bitter and increasingly short-tempered. An added blow to his pride was the fact that the understudy, who had taken over his part in the theatre, had proved to be such a good actor that it had been decided to keep him on in the role. George was offered an understudy part; when he turned it down his contract was terminated.

Christabel suspected the decision had been made by Alex but she said nothing. She'd neither seen nor spoken to him since their weekend in Liverpool. When she had gone round to his flat the following evening she'd found that the locks had been changed and she was unable to get in. Two days later a courier had arrived with all her belongings; she'd looked in vain to see if there was a note inside from Alex, but there wasn't one.

Now that George was home Christabel felt as if she was living under a cloud that was becoming ever darker. Invariably, he was under the influence of alcohol and his mood was
morose and argumentative. Often he stayed in bed until midday and then mooched around the flat half-dressed, finding fault with everything she did.

Because he was no longer going to the theatre he sat in a dejected trance, drinking whisky and fiddling with his wireless, searching out new stations, until she felt that she could scream from listening to the weird distorted sounds, high-pitched shrieks and other strange, oscillating noises.

She tried to ignore what was happening by playing records, often the same ones, over and over on her gramophone, and playing them so loudly that the loudspeaker sent the sound of jazz echoing into every corner of the flat.

Their nerves were stretched to breaking point and they quarrelled incessantly. Neither of them, it seemed, could do right in the other's eyes. Often Christabel would put on her coat and walk the streets, wondering what to do for the best.

The answer came in a way she'd never even contemplated. She returned one afternoon to find George frantically packing his belongings into suitcases.

‘Collect up what you can of your things, we've got to get out as quickly as possible,' he told her. ‘I've not paid the rent for months and the landlord is sending the bailiffs round; they'll grab anything they can lay their hands on.'

‘Where are we going?'

George paused and looked up from what he was doing. ‘I'm going back home, but I don't know what you are going to do,' he told her bluntly.

Ten minutes later they were both standing on the pavement outside.

‘Here', he fished in his pocket and brought out a crumpled five-pound note, ‘this will help tide you over. Take care of yourself,' he added as he hailed a taxi.

Christabel felt shocked. George didn't want her, Alex had changed the locks on his flat, so what on earth was she going to do? she wondered. She didn't have a job or even enough money to rent a room, so it was impossible for her stay on in London. There was only one thing she could do, and that was to go back home.

Her mother seemed rather surprised to see her, but Christabel explained her visit by saying that she hadn't been feeling well and thought she needed a holiday.

‘Oh, I thought you'd come because your friend is staying here for a few days,' her mother commented, giving her a shrewd look.

‘My friend?' Christabel looked puzzled.

‘Yes, dear. That rather nice young man you brought down from London.'

The colour drained from Christabel's face. ‘Do you mean Alex Taylor?'

‘That's right! He's been such a wonderful help and support to Lilian, that I sometimes wonder how she would ever have got through
this dreadful divorce business without him,' Mabel commented.

‘You're talking in riddles, Mother. What divorce?'

‘Lilian and Dennis, of course dear. I thought I told you about it when you were here. Didn't you see it in the newspaper? The
Liverpool Echo
had a lovely picture of Lilian.'

‘It wasn't in the London papers,' Christabel told her.

‘What a pity, it was such a lovely one. Alex went to court with her. He's been such a tower of strength, and so attentive ever since. He's been taking Lilian out and about to try and take her mind off what she's been through,' Mrs Montgomery went on guilelessly, completely unaware that each word was like a knife turning inside Christabel.

‘Where are they now?' Christabel interrupted, cutting short her mother's burbling.

‘They've taken little Marlene over to Wallasey. Your Aunt Agnes hasn't been too well and I sent her over a pot of quince jelly because it always was a favourite of hers. Our own mother always used to give it to us when we were children if we weren't feeling well and I thought it might bring back memories for Agnes and cheer her up. I daresay she already has some in her own store cupboard that she's made herself, but it was about the only thing I could think of . . .'

‘When will they be back?'

‘Oh, they'll be home in time for dinner and it will be quite a surprise for them to find you here!'

‘Yes, it will, Mother. You won't say a word to either of them, will you? Would it be OK if I went up to my room and stayed there until dinner time? I'm so tired.'

Mabel looked bewildered. ‘Yes, dear, if that's what you want to do.'

Christabel spent a long time deciding what she would put on. She wanted to look glamorous enough to impress Alex, and put Lilian into the shade. Yet, at the same time, Christabel thought, she didn't want to rouse her mother's suspicions that there was a feud developing between her and Lilian. All her memories of what had happened when she'd brought Dennis home had been revived.

It had only been a question of her pride being hurt when Dennis had taken up with Lilian, but this time it was different. At her age, it was high time she was married and settled down, she thought grimly, and Alex was the man she wanted to marry.

She heard Lilian and Alex return, and her sister's simpering laugh and Alex's deep chuckle at something Marlene had said. She pictured them all together in the room downstairs as Marlene had her supper and said goodnight to them all before Lilian took her upstairs and tucked her into bed.

She gave Lilian time to go back down again
and to relay any messages from Aunt Agnes to her mother, and for all of them to sit down at the dinner table, before she put in an appearance.

‘Hello, everyone!' Christabel paused dramatically in the doorway and felt elated as she saw the look of shock on both their faces.

She had chosen a knee-skimming slinky red dress and draped a black silk scarf at the neckline and she knew she looked sensational. Her gaze rested on Alex, curious to see his reaction. She was not disappointed. There was open admiration in his dark eyes, and his smile was so warm and intimate that for a moment it was as if they were the only two people in the room.

Reassured, she accepted a glass of sherry and joined in the exchange of family small talk. Throughout the meal, however, she was conscious of the closeness between Lilian and Alex. They were sitting side by side, and it was as if there was an aura around them that separated them from everyone else at the table. Each subtle touch or sideways glance between them revealed their feelings for each other and Christabel's heart sank. It became increasingly obvious to her that she had lost her hold on Alex.

Nevertheless, she was determined to make a stand and, as soon as she managed to get Lilian on her own, she accused her of trying to steal Alex away from her.

‘What on earth do you mean?' Lilian gasped her blue-grey eyes wide with surprise.

‘It wouldn't be the first time!'

The colour drained from Lilian's face. ‘Are you by any chance referring to Dennis?'

‘You know damn well that I am,' Christabel retorted.

‘You are more than welcome to have Dennis back, Chrissy,' Lilian told her sweetly.

Christabel ignored her jibe. She knew she was on the point of making a fool of herself unless she was careful. It was always the same when she quarrelled with Lilian. Her sister always remained cool and calm and sweetly docile, yet at the same time inflicted spiteful barbs that not only found their mark with unerring accuracy, but also managed to sting her into reckless retaliation and say things she bitterly regretted afterwards.

This time, however, she wasn't going to be drawn into saying anything she might rue later on. Alex meant so much to her that she was determined to keep cool and win.

Christabel laid her plans carefully. During the week, Alex went back to London. The play George had once had a part in was on each night at the King's Theatre and because Alex took his responsibilities as producer very seriously he felt it was imperative that he should be there as often as possible.

In his absence, Christabel regaled them by saying what a good friend he had been to her
after George, the actor she had been housekeeper to, had been arrested.

‘Arrested?' Lilian looked surprised.

‘We knew nothing of this!'

Lilian and her mother both spoke at once, their faces registering concern and dismay.

Christabel sighed, bit her lip, and pretended to look embarrassed. ‘George was arrested the day of the Cup Final at Wembley. Quite by accident, he and some others got caught up in some sort of skirmish, and when the police found that George was carrying a hip flask, they arrested him on the grounds of being drunk and disorderly. He wasn't, of course,' she stated emphatically.

Her mother looked shocked. ‘They actually sent him to prison?'

‘Yes. For eighteen months.'

‘Oh, Christabel! Why on earth didn't you write and tell us at the time, my dear? Why didn't you come home?' her mother exclaimed aghast.

‘I was too upset to think clearly. Anyway, Alex said I could stay with him until George was free . . .' Her voice trailed off as she dabbed at her eyes.

‘How on earth could you do that? Alex told me that he has only a one-bedroom apartment!' Lilian exclaimed.

Christabel didn't answer, but the knowing look she directed at Lilian made her sister colour up.