Without Sin (35 page)

She opened the door wide, silently inviting him to step inside.

‘No, no, I mustn’t come in,’ Philip began, but Meg smiled at him archly.

‘Don’t you trust me, Doctor?’

He did not reply, but inside his own mind he was saying:
It’s myself I don’t trust
. Instead he smiled thinly and asked, ‘Did I leave my gloves here?’

‘Yes.’ She pulled the door wider. ‘Come in while I fetch them.’ She leant forward, glanced up and down the street and then whispered, ‘I hid them, just in case
Percy saw them and asked awkward questions.’

As he stepped into the hall – he could do no other if he wanted to retrieve his gloves – he said, ‘You – you didn’t tell Percy, then?’

Meg closed the door and leant against it, watching him. She widened her eyes. ‘Of course not. Now,’ she said briskly, ‘have you time for a drink?’

‘Oh no! No more of your drinks, Meg.’ He held out his hand as if to ward her off. ‘Besides, I must be on my way. I’ve patients to see.’

She moved closer to him and, though she wore no perfume, the smell of her enticed him. It was a natural, womanly smell. Earthy and inviting. She put her hands, palms flat, against his chest.
‘What is more natural than that you should feel able to rest at a friend’s house when you were so desperately tired? You told Louisa where you were, of course?’

‘Well – no – I – er – no, I didn’t.’

‘Then it will be our little secret.’ She made it sound as if there was much more to hide than what had actually happened. ‘We must think of Louisa and Percy.’

Without another word being spoken, she fetched his gloves and handed them to him. He left the house, but as she closed the door after him, Meg was still smiling.

I’ll get my revenge on you yet, Louisa Collins.

Another Christmas came and went and life in South Monkford settled into a routine. Percy and Meg worked side by side in their shop. To the surprise of them both – though
neither of them ever voiced their private thoughts to the other – the number of their customers grew steadily as they increased the range of their stock. Meg had secretly worried that the
scandal of the breach-of-promise court case would seriously affect their business. And, though he said nothing to her, Percy had been concerned too. But their fears had been unfounded. Even
Theobald Finch continued to frequent the shop, though they never saw Clara. In fact, very few people of the town ever saw Miss Finch. She ventured out rarely and when she did she travelled to
Nottingham, where, incognito, she could shop away from the nudges and whispers. That the townsfolk of South Monkford had better things to think of now never occurred to the embittered woman.

Meg threw herself into work at the shop and at home. She learnt as much as she could about the business and persuaded Percy to teach her tailoring. At first he was reluctant. ‘Oh no,
it’s no job for a woman. How would you do the measuring? No gentleman would like that.’ But Meg was insistent and at last he allowed her to learn how to use the sewing machine. She
filled her days deliberately. That way she had little time to think. She refused to dwell on the past, nor would she plan the future. She just lived from day to day, being a good wife to Percy and
helping him to build the business.

That way, little time was left for her to think of Jake.

At the farm Jake couldn’t believe his luck. Every morning he woke to marvel at his good fortune. He was well fed and doing a job he loved. And best of all, little Betsy – who had
always been one of his favourites at the workhouse – blossomed before his eyes. And if his nights were disturbed by haunting dreams of a fiery red-haired girl with a wonderful smile, no one
would have guessed it from the wide grin that was permanently on his face. Only if they had thought to look a little closer would they have seen the sadness deep in his brown eyes that would never
quite go away.

At the workhouse, for the first time in many years, Isaac slept alone in the vast double bed. Much to Ursula’s glee, no one replaced Sarah Kirkland in the master’s affections and the
lonely, obsessed spinster began to cherish hopes once more.

I knew he always loved me best
, she told herself.
He needs me. I was right to stay here – to devote my life to caring for him. He’ll turn to me again. I know he will. I
just have to be patient and wait . . .

So it was Ursula who took the master his meals, who ran errands for him, who whispered tales about the inmates into his ear. Things, she said, that he ought to know, had a right to know. Yet to
her chagrin he hardly seemed aware of her existence. And certainly he never invited her into his bed again.

‘I know what you’re up to.’ The matron was not so blind as her brother.

‘Up to?’ Ursula assumed an innocent expression. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘Pandering to him. Running after him. Well, it won’t work. He was fond of Kirkland. Really fond. And he’s missing her.’

‘He’ll forget her.’ Ursula smirked. ‘And when he does, I’ll be there.’

Letitia cast her a disbelieving glance, but said no more. She was not a cruel woman though at that moment she was tempted to say:
He’ll never take up with you again in a month of
Sundays
. But Letitia held her tongue. If anything, she felt sorry for Waters. The woman had wasted her life, choosing to stay in the workhouse instead of making a life for herself outside its
walls as Isaac would have helped her to do. But no, she’d rejected his offer, preferring to stay near him, forever hoping that one day he would . . .

Well, he wouldn’t, Letitia knew, but she would say nothing against her brother. They were bound together by shared secrets from the past. And there were things, too, that Ursula Waters
knew, so it would not do to cross her. Letitia was obliged to be content with her lot – she had made her bed and she had to lie in it. Isaac had been good to her and she was grateful to him.
She was lucky – she knew she was. And she had her little boys to love and cherish.

There was only one thing that saddened her these days. She didn’t see Jake as often as she would have liked and even less since Sarah’s death. He hadn’t been to the workhouse
since then and she missed him. Oh, how the matron missed seeing her special boy.

When Britain declared war on Germany in August 1914 the news came as a shock to the people of South Monkford. Events outside the town rarely troubled the serenity of their
lives, but now events in a far-off country, which should have had nothing to do with them, had turned their cosy world upside-down. In a fever of patriotism young men, and even not-so-young men,
rushed to volunteer. Sons, husbands and fathers – all were swept up in the fervour to enlist.

At Middleditch Farm Betsy and Mrs Smallwood were in a permanent state of anxiety lest Jake should be caught up in the excitement.

‘He won’t go, will he?’ Betsy said a dozen times a day.

‘I hope not.’ Mrs Smallwood was unusually patient with the young girl’s fears and constant questions. Betsy was only voicing Mabel’s worries.

At last it was George Smallwood who dared to speak out. ‘You’ll not do anything daft, lad, will yer? Like joining up?’

Jake’s face was sober. ‘I’ve decided . . .’ he paused and George, Mabel and Betsy stared at him, ‘not to volunteer, but of course if they bring in – what do
they call it?’ He looked at George, who said, ‘Conscription.’

‘Yes, that’s it. If they bring in conscription, then of course I’ll have to go.’

‘Mebbe you’ll not have to, lad,’ George said. ‘They’ll need workers to stay on the land. There’ll likely be food shortages if it goes on for very
long.’

‘But they say it won’t,’ Mabel put in. ‘They say it’ll be all over by Christmas.’

‘Aye well, I wouldn’t hold mi breath, love, if I was you,’ was George’s only reply.

Jake said no more, but silently made up his own mind. If conscription did come in, he would go then – even before they sent for him. He would answer his country’s call.

‘We’ll never cope with all these orders for suits, to say nothing of the underwear they’re buying,’ Percy said worriedly. Nothing was too good for their
menfolk when they went to war, and wives and mothers flooded into the tailor’s shop demanding the very best for their loved ones. ‘What on earth they want new suits for to go into the
army, I don’t know. Mind you, folks are very particular round here, but they’ll not be given a chance to wear them. Once they’re given their uniform, that’ll be it.
They’ll not see their own clothes again until . . .’ His voice faded away. Already news of the carnage at the Front had reached the town.

‘Just be thankful they do, Percy,’ Meg said. ‘And we’ve nearly sold out of ladies’ hats. Poor Miss Pinkerton is working through the night sometimes just to keep up
with the demands.’

Percy sighed. ‘I expect the ladies want to look their best when they wave their menfolk off. To give them a pretty memory to carry with them.’

‘Is there any chance we could get a contract for making uniforms?’ Meg was thinking of their own business, thriving in spite of – or rather because of – the war. ‘I
could help you.’

‘Oh no.’ Percy shook his head. ‘That’s very specialized and besides –’ he shuddered, the thought abhorrent to him – ‘I wouldn’t want
to.’

‘Wouldn’t want to?’ Meg repeated, surprised. ‘But there must be a lot of money to be made.’

‘I wouldn’t want to make money out of such a tragedy as this war is going to be,’ Percy said righteously.

Then you’re a fool
, Meg wanted to say, but for once she held her tongue. She was revelling in the turn of events. Her recent life had been just a dull routine of housework and
working in the shop. Even learning tailoring skills had palled. But now there was some real excitement. ‘We’ll have to take on more staff. Can’t you advertise for a tailor?
It’s you who needs the help making the garments. I can cope with serving the customers. But you’ve been working every night for weeks.’ She stepped closer to him and smoothed back
a lock of his hair – hair that was thinning prematurely, she noticed.

Percy looked askance at her. ‘Take on someone else? Oh no, I couldn’t do that. Besides, this rush is only temporary.’

But the demand for new suits, new clothes of all description was a surprisingly long time in diminishing. After weeks of working late into the night every night, by November Percy was looking
tired and even thinner.

‘I’m calling the doctor,’ Meg declared and refused to listen to Percy’s weak protests. ‘You must stay in bed all day tomorrow and I’ll get Ph— Dr
Collins to call to see you.’

It had been almost two years since the night he had fallen asleep in her home. She had seen Philip rarely since, and then only in public, when she would smile at him coyly and be gratified by
the look of embarrassed confusion that coloured his face. He was a nice man, she told herself, and she shouldn’t make sport of him. Yet, it was so tempting. Her life was so dull and what harm
could a little flirtation with Louisa’s husband do? It would just serve her right, Meg thought, still unable to forgive.

And now, with Percy’s exhaustion, there was an excuse – a genuine reason – to send for him, but she had to make sure he would come. She wrote a polite note and sent it by an
errand boy to Philip’s surgery asking him to visit.
I will not be at home
, she wrote,
as I must keep the shop open. The front door will be unlocked.

Meg smiled to herself as she folded the note and handed it to the grubby urchin to deliver for her.

The following morning Percy insisted, ‘You must go to the shop. You must be there to explain to Mrs Heane why her son’s suit isn’t ready. The poor woman was in tears when she
ordered it. “It might be that last suit I ever buy for him,” she said.’ Percy sighed heavily. ‘I suppose I can see now why they’re wanting the best for their boys. It
might be the last chance they get. Tell her I’ll have it done tomorrow without fail.’

‘I’ll do no such thing,’ Meg countered. ‘I’m waiting here until the doctor comes and as for you working today or tomorrow, well, we’ll see what he
says.’

Meg was gratified by the startled look on Philip’s face when she opened the door.

‘I thought—’ he began.

‘I know,’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to be here, but I didn’t like to leave him. Once my back is turned, he’ll be out of that bed and struggling to the
shop. And he really isn’t well. He’s been working so hard.’ Her tone softened as she noticed the dark circles beneath Philip’s eyes. ‘As you have too, I can
see.’

He stepped into the house with a sigh. ‘There’s a lot of illness about,’ he murmured, as he pressed himself back against the wall of the narrow hallway to allow her to lead the
way up the stairs. He was overwhelmed by the surge of emotion that coursed through him at her nearness. And worse, as she lifted her skirts to climb the stairs in front of him, he caught a glimpse
of her neat ankle and the curve of her calf. He closed his eyes and paused for a moment, catching hold of the banister rail to steady himself. Then he took a deep breath and followed her, keeping
his gaze firmly on each tread of the staircase.

At first, Percy refused to obey the doctor’s advice. ‘I can’t stay in bed. I have work to do. Meg can’t cope alone in the shop and there are suits to finish and . .
.’ He groaned, closed his eyes and lay back against the pillows.

‘Two days in bed, that’s all I’m asking,’ Philip said. ‘If you feel better, then you can get up, but I would still advise you to stay at home for at least another
two days after that.’

‘It’s impossible,’ Percy moaned.

‘If you work yourself into an early grave, the suits won’t get made, will they?’ Philip said bluntly. ‘And you’re not being fair to Meg,’ he added, though he
kept his gaze firmly on his patient, not daring to meet her eyes. ‘She can no doubt manage the shop alone for a day or two, but if you get really ill, how would she cope then? Have you
thought of that?’

Percy sighed. ‘I hadn’t looked at it like that.’

‘Then I think you should.’

‘All right.’ Percy capitulated with a weary smile. ‘I’ll do as you say, Doctor.’