Wishes and Tears (12 page)

‘On the sofa. It's a bed as well and it's quite comfortable. This is the kitchenette. They call it that 'cos it's so small.'

Janet could see that for herself; with the two of them in there it was overcrowded. Under the window with its green and white check curtains was a sink with an enamel draining board. A glass-fronted cabinet was on the opposite wall, and Janet could see a few tins and packets inside as well as some crockery. A drop-leaf table stood below it, with two stools tucked under. A small cooker was next to that.

‘There's not a lot of room in here.'

‘No, but then it don't matter that much.' He put his arm round her. ‘When you're Mrs Scott and take it over you'll make it look like a palace.'

He took her in his arms and went to kiss her.

‘Get off, you're all dirty.'

He grinned. ‘I'd like to be.'

‘Mark, I hope you haven't got me here to ... you know?'

‘Now, as if I would.'

‘Well, I can tell you now, it won't work.'

He laughed. ‘Didn't think it would.'

They moved back into the big room.

‘The view's not bad.'

‘It's a bit morbid, looking over a cemetery.'

‘I don't know, there's always plenty of flowers out there. I was thinking of getting a radiogram. It would look good in that corner, don't you think?'

Janet smiled, suddenly full of enthusiasm. ‘I'd really love that. I've always wanted a record player but my father wouldn't hear of it. We could buy a record every week.'

‘We'll have to see about that.'

She knew Mark was going to make her happy. She wasn't that thrilled at the thought of living here in this flat, but at least she'd be in London and her own mistress, and she could probably make the place look a lot better. ‘Go and have your bath.' She gently pushed him away.

‘You going to come and scrub my back?'

‘No, I'm not. How many use that bathroom?'

‘Don't know. Must be about four of us.'

Janet almost shuddered at that. ‘Are they all men?'

‘Don't know. Don't see much of them as we're all at work.'

She was dreading to think what the bathroom looked like.

‘I'll see to the tea.'

 

The following weekend, Mark was home and after collecting Janet from her Sunday school class, he took her to his parents' house for tea.

The Reverend and his wife weren't very pleased that Janet wouldn't be attending church that evening but, as she pointed out, they had to see about the wedding invitations and this was the only time Mark had.

‘I feel like a naughty girl, not going to church,' said Janet as they sat in the front room of the Scotts' house.

‘Well, you have got a good excuse. Sad, isn't it,' said Mark, chewing the end of his pencil and looking at the list.

‘What d'you mean?'

‘Look at it.' He flicked the paper with his finger. ‘The only friends you've got are Freda and Charlie while I've only got Danny to invite.'

She laughed. ‘And Freda's my bridesmaid and with Danny being your best man, there will only be Charlie sitting in the pew.'

‘I've only got old George from the garage. Should have kept in touch with some of my army bods,' he said pensively. ‘No, joking aside, I still reckon it's sad.'

‘It doesn't matter. There will be enough there. Most of our relations and lots of people in the village have been invited by our parents between them.'

‘It seems wrong that we're only going to be on parade for the village and relations.'

‘It's only for a day.'

‘We could run away to Gretna.'

Janet laughed. ‘That would really put the cat amongst the pigeons.'

‘Be a laugh, though, wouldn't it?'

‘Don't even think about it.' Janet put her pencil down. ‘Mark, do you like children?'

‘Can't say I've ever thought about it.'

‘I'd like some.'

‘It'll have to be when we've got a proper house. I wouldn't fancy bringing my kids up in London. ‘Sides, I want us to enjoy ourselves a bit before we settle down. Got plenty of time for kids.'

Janet took a deep breath. ‘Mark. I've—'

‘Mark, Mark, quick!' Mrs Scott came racing into the room.

‘What is it?'

‘Your father. He's ill.'

Janet looked bewildered. ‘What's wrong?'

Mark ran from the room.

In the kitchen Mr Scott was sitting on a chair. He looked a dreadful colour and was having difficulty breathing.

‘Get a doctor,' said Mrs Scott.

‘No, I'm going to take him straight to the hospital. Janet, will you be all right going home?'

She nodded. ‘Don't worry about me.'

‘I'll get the car, Mum.'

Mark left the house and Janet took her hat and coat from the hall stand. She waited with Mrs Scott until Mark had brought the car round, then helped get his father into the back. When they had all driven off, Janet slowly made her way home.

She was upset about Mr Scott and also the lost opportunity to tell Mark about Paula.

 

Mark took his father to hospital. He told Janet later that he'd had a very bad bout of flu coming on, and couldn't get his breath.

By Christmas he was back home and seemed to be a lot better. Janet was in charge of the nativity play again. This time Adam Potter was a year older and better behaved.

As they walked home after the concert, Mark said, ‘Don't seem possible, does it, that it was only a year ago we started going out together?'

She squeezed his arm. ‘And now we're planning our wedding.'

‘Not us doing the planning, our mothers.'

She laughed. ‘Well, it gives them something to do.'

‘What happened to that old aunt you was looking after a couple of years ago? I haven't heard about her lately. She dead?'

Janet froze. What could she say? She sniffed and to her relief Mark didn't wait for an answer and took her silence as yes.

‘That's a shame. Sorry, I shouldn't have asked. You must have been very close? Here, guess what? I was talking to a customer the other day and he was selling his car 'cos he was going to live in Canada.'

‘That's a long way away.'

‘He reckons there's no end of prospects for blokes over there, and he said they're calling out for mechanics. Would you fancy living in Canada, Jan?'

‘No, I would not. It's freezing over there.'

‘But just think—we could live in a nice house with heating and in the summer it's warm and with all that space we could do all sorts of things.'

‘I'm not moving to some place that's the back of beyond.'

‘I just thought you'd like a challenge, and this bloke says—'

‘He's really brain-washed you, hasn't he?'

‘No, but let's face it: anything's got to be better than that poky flat.'

‘Not to me it isn't. I'm looking forward to being in charge of my life for a change.'

‘You could still be in charge of your life in Canada.'

‘But it's too far away. And what about your mum and dad? You mother wouldn't want you to go that far away.'

‘That's true.'

 

That night when Janet filled in her diary she thought about the Christmas before last when she'd been expecting Paula.

She wondered if Mark was serious when he spoke about Canada. He did seem very excited at the prospects over there. She sat back and mulled it over. If he was serious she would have to tell him the real reason she'd gone away and why she wouldn't go to Canada with him. So many times she had tried to tell him about Paula but it had never seemed to be the right moment. Canada was too far away for her to be able to begin her quest, looking for Paula.

Would he understand? She remembered the fuss when she'd told her parents she was expecting, but Mark was different; he was of her generation and he loved her. He might even help her to find Paula. Then they would have a ready-made family. He'd said he didn't want children just yet, but Paula was different.

She suddenly felt hopeful about a happy ending to the problem of her secret. She decided to wait till after Christmas and when Mark asked her what her New Year's resolution was as he had this year, she would tell him. To find my daughter, Paula.

It was Christmas Eve and Mark had been very quiet all evening.

‘Are you all right?' asked Janet as they made their way home from that evening's celebratory dance.

‘I think I'll go on home, if you don't mind.'

‘I thought you were coming to midnight mass?'

‘I'll give it a miss. You don't mind, do you?'

‘Yes, I do. I don't ask you to do much but just this once I ...' She didn't finish the sentence. She felt like saying that she minded very much, but didn't want to start having words, not tonight.

When they reached her gate he quickly kissed her cheek and hurried away.

‘See you tomorrow.' Janet's voice was taken by the wind. She was angry. There had been none of his now familiar kisses or cuddles and they'd had very few dances. He had sat and hardly spoken. Was something on his mind? He said he thought he had a cold coming. Janet did have to admit to herself that he didn't look that well, but men could be such wimps sometimes. He was lucky; she knew Mrs Scott would make a fuss of him.

Janet walked into the hall where her mother was standing in front of the mirror putting on her hat.

Mrs Slater turned to face her daughter. ‘Isn't Mark with you?'

‘No, he's gone home.'

‘I thought he would have made some kind of effort this year. I know he doesn't come to church but the midnight mass is different somehow.'

‘I don't think he feels that well.'

‘Oh dear,' said her mother. ‘I hope it isn't anything serious or catching. Are you ready then?'

‘Yes.'

They walked the short distance to the church in silence. Mrs Scott raised her eyebrows when she saw Janet enter without Mark, and quickly slid along the pew to sit beside her. ‘What's happened to Mark?' she whispered. ‘Why isn't he here?'

‘He's gone home,' said Janet in a low voice.

‘Why?'

‘He doesn't feel well.'

‘Oh dear. I hope he hasn't got the flu. I am anxious about him in that flat on his own. I worry in case he isn't eating properly. I hope he's being careful; I don't want him giving anything to his father and Tom finishing up in hospital again.'

Janet half smiled. Mrs Scott was a pillar of strength in this village to most people but when it came to Mark she was just like any other doting mum. Poor Mark, perhaps he wasn't so lucky after all to have his mother fussing round him. Janet resolved to go and see him first thing in the morning.

Her father began the service. As she stood with her head bowed her thoughts and prayers, as always at this time of year, went to Freda, and especially to Paula. She would be two in March.

Early the following morning, after breakfast, presents were exchanged in the Slater home. Janet wished her father would unbend, just a little. He gave her a brief smile, a quick kiss on the cheek and thanked her for the gardening gloves. In these past two years they had said less and less to each other. It made her unhappy to think it was her doing, but surely she had been punished enough. She wanted to scream at him, ‘Where is your Christmas spirit and the goodwill to all men?'

When she'd finished helping her mother wash up she said, ‘I'm going round to see Mark.'

‘Don't be late for this morning's service,' called Irene Slater as Janet put on her hat and coat.

‘I won't. Bye.'

The Scotts lived the other side of the village and Janet enjoyed the brisk walk in the bright crisp morning sunshine.

‘Merry Christmas, Mrs Scott,' said Janet when the front door was opened.

‘Merry Christmas, Janet.' She kissed her cheek. ‘Mark is still in bed. He doesn't feel too good. You can go on up if you like. First door on the left.'

Janet thanked her and slowly went up the stairs.

She gently pushed open the door. ‘Hello. It's me.'

The curtains hadn't been drawn back so the room was dark and stuffy. Even when her eyes got accustomed to the gloom all she could see was a lump in the bed. He turned over.

‘Janet,' he croaked.

‘Merry Christmas. How are you?'