When they laid Sandra to rest in the garden of St Mary’s Church, the priest made a mention of the bright sunshine.
‘Sometimes, in the middle of a grey winter’s day, a ray of sunshine breaks through to lift our hearts, and give us hope. Sandra Craig was like that; a little tempest one moment, a ray of sunshine the next. Exasperating, infuriating, immensely funny, and never still.’
He smiled at the recollection. ‘Many was the time I had to reprimand her for one thing or another… as did her mother, Rosie, I know.’ He winked comfortingly at Rosie, whose eyes were bright with tears. ‘There were days when Sandra could make it feel like winter, then there were other days when her humour made you smile and lifted your heart. She taught us never to take her for granted. She was young and vibrant, and lived her life to the full. Today, we thank the Lord for letting us know her, albeit for such a short time.’
In that churchyard, in the sunshine, he made his blessing and it was done.
Quietly, sadly, they turned away; all but Molly, who lingered there, her sorry eyes downcast to the hole in the ground where her friend lay. Her thoughts went back to the happy times, and the times she had tried so hard to make Sandra see sense.
‘You never would listen, would you?’ Blinking away the tears, she gave a half smile. ‘D’you remember the day when you said you could see the cheeks of my bum up the ladder? I knew you were lying, you little blighter, but after that, I was always wary going up the ladder.’
In her mind she went over the last time she and Sandra had been together, when she had warned her about chasing after this fella of hers. Molly would never forget how Sandra had smiled then, in that serene, assured way, so unlike her. ‘I love him,’ she said. ‘Like you love Alfie.’
Remembering was too painful; it was too soon. Her tears rising, she gave up a prayer for her friend. ‘Look after her, Lord. Sometimes she was mischievous, and maybe she was too easily led. But she had a good heart, and she never hurt anyone. I’ll miss you, Sandra,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll miss your endless chatter and your teasing, and the way—’
Her voice broke. ‘Why didn’t you listen? Why did you have to go after him? Oh Sandra, if only…’
When she could no longer bear to think about it, she turned and ran from the churchyard, through the gate and down the path. Straight into Alfie’s arms.
He was as startled as Molly. ‘Are you all right?’ When he put his hands on her shoulders, she felt the warmth trembling through her.
Too choked to speak, she merely nodded, her heart pumping thirteen to the dozen. Rosie had said Alfie would be here, but Molly hadn’t seen him in the church.
Even without her asking, he explained, ‘I missed my connecting train. It made me late.’ His troubled gaze went over her shoulder to the churchyard. ‘I didn’t miss the service though.’ His face twitched into a sad little smile. ‘The vicar described her so beautifully, don’t you think?’
Molly glanced back, following his gaze and knowing how devastated he must feel. Still hurting, she didn’t know how to console him. Instead, she reached up with both hands and laid them over his. For a wonderful, heartbreaking moment they remained like that, he loving her so much he couldn’t tell her, and Molly, wanting to go, wanting to stay.
The moment passed and she nodded her head and went quickly down the path. When she paused at the bottom to look back, he was on his knees to Sandra, his head bowed and hands clasped.
Never had Molly seen him so vulnerable. Except, of course, for that other awful moment, when she had told him she didn’t want to wed him any more.
Outside the church, neighbours and strangers alike said what a lovely service it was and how sorry they were about Sandra. ‘A bonny lass,’ said one. ‘Her own worst enemy,’ said another, ruefully, ‘but the street won’t be the same without her, poor lass.’
Afterwards, the little party made their way back to Victoria Street; Michael and Rosie in front, then came Molly, everyone lost in their own private thoughts.
Alfie was standing by the lychgate, watching them leave, but not yet ready to go. He had come a long way and was wearied by it.
The loss of his twin sister had been a terrible blow. It was almost impossible for him to come to terms with what had happened: it was too great a shock. There were other things plaguing him, too. Things that had to be resolved one way or the other. And very soon, or he would go out of his mind.
Walking with Rosie and her father to their doorstep, Molly was concerned about Michael; the old fella was pale and wobbly on his feet. It seemed the tragic loss of Sandra, and the way it had happened, had aged him and taken its toll.
After she and Rosie had helped Michael inside, Rosie came back to the door with her. ‘Will ye mind if I pop down later on?’ she asked. ‘There’s something I want to tell ye.’
‘Come down whenever you’re ready,’ Molly replied, giving her a peck on the cheek. ‘I’ll be there.’
The noise greeted Molly the minute she opened the door. When Bertha spotted her, and ran screeching all the way down the passage, the others were not far behind.
‘Thank God you’re back!’ Not wanting to face the ordeal of church, especially with the eyes of Father Maguire on him, Frank had reluctantly agreed to watch the children until Molly returned. Now he was cursing himself for having been so reckless. ‘It’s been a bloody nightmare!’ he exclaimed, grabbing his coat and making for the door. ‘The little devils won’t behave. They fight and carry on like lunatics, an’ they mek so much noise a man can’t hear himself think straight.’ He didn’t ask her about the funeral; didn’t spare a thought for her feelings. Selfish through and through, was Frank Tattersall.
Before Molly could answer, he was out the door and away to the nearest pub, where he tried to gather his sanity and reflect on what had happened in his own life and in the life of the Craig family. He had been badly shaken by the end of that poor young lass. A bonny thing she was, he recalled. Many was the time she would come in and out of the house, leaving Molly either laughing or pulling her hair out.
Life was a puzzling old thing, and lately he was beginning to realise it couldn’t be sorted out from the bottom end of a pint glass.
Molly had never seen her father move so swiftly. ‘What have you been doing to your dad?’ Leading the four youngsters into the parlour, she wagged a finger. ‘I hope you haven’t been playing him up?’
‘We didn’t do nothing!’ Milly was quite indignant. ‘We only played hide and seek like always, and Eddie cried because he was hungry, and Daddy couldn’t find his bottle.’
‘I told him where it was.’ Molly had gone to great pains to make sure everything had been left as it should be. ‘It was soaking in the saucepan of water. I told your dad I’d already scalded it, and all it needed was a good rinse.’
Bertha giggled. ‘Georgie told him that, but when he went to the scullery he dropped the pan, and the bottle rolled under the sink and he had to scald it all over again. He wasn’t going to though, until Georgie said he’d tell you if he didn’t.’
‘It weren’t our fault if Eddie kept on screaming an ’ screaming,’ Georgie declared with a grown-up sigh.
Molly glanced at Eddie, who by now was fast asleep in his pram. She gave a chuckle. It was wonderful, she thought, how children could make you smile through your tears.
Bertha made her laugh out loud, though. ‘Why did he run off like that?’
‘Because he’s a man,’ Molly replied with a smile. ‘And because you lot frightened the pants off him.’
Satisfied, they ran off to resume their game of hide and seek, the yelling and screaming getting so loud that Molly had to reprimand them. ‘Ssh, not so noisy. You’ll wake the bairn!’
She could see why her dad couldn’t wait to get out, especially if Eddie had been screaming for his bottle an’ all. ‘Poor man!’ The image of him running out the door made her laugh again.
Then another, stronger image came to mind: the haunting memory of Sandra, sitting in that very chair, telling her how much she loved Dave, and how she was carrying his child. Now Molly was consumed with guilt. ‘Oh, lass. How was I to know the fella you were trying to track down was the same one our Lottie had settled for?’
Going to the sideboard, she took down the letter received from Lottie only the day before:
I’m sorry, Molly. Me and Dave want to say our goodbyes to Sandra, but we can’t face coming to St Mary’s.
We’ll go into the church in Bridport and light a candle. I’m so sorry, and Dave is, too. Later on, we’ll come and see you. But not yet. It’s too soon.
Please tell Rosie how sorry we are. She’s a good woman, and a good friend to you… a better friend than I’ve been.
I do love you both,
Lottie
XXX
Molly replaced the letter in its envelope. ‘Funny how things turn out,’ she murmured. ‘Sandra and Lottie… both loving the same fella.’
It had all come as a big shock. ‘Did you tell him, Sandra?’ she murmured. ‘Did you tell him about the bairn?’
As for herself, she had told no one. Not even Rosie, though during this past week there had been times when she had come close to it. But each time, the thought of her promise to Sandra had kept her silent.
When Rosie came round some half an hour later, it was to talk about Sandra. ‘I’ve a confession to make.’ Settling herself into the chair, she refused when Molly offered her a brew. ‘No, lass. I’ve something to tell you, and I’d better do it quick or sure I might not tell ye at all.’
Molly’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Whatever is it?’ In that brief, unguarded second, when Rosie looked at her with such distress, Molly was convinced it had something to do with Alfie.
Her fears were unfounded. ‘It’s Sandra.’ Rosie sat on the edge of the chair, fiddling with her fingers and wondering how to begin. ‘You know I had to go and see the coroner and all that dreadful business?’
Molly nodded her acknowledgement.
‘The coroner… he…’ Catching her breath she went on, ‘He told me that our Sandra was with child.’
Suddenly she was crying, and Molly had to comfort her. ‘Can you imagine that? She was having a bairn and she never told me… her own mam, who loved her in spite of all her goings-on.’ Taking a shuddering breath, she tried to compose herself. ‘Why didn’t she tell me, Molly? Why?’
With Rosie’s tear-filled eyes on her, Molly didn’t know how best to respond. If she were to admit that Sandra had confided in her, while keeping it from her own mother, it might cause a terrible rift between them. Yet if she kept quiet and acted as if she knew nothing at all about it, wouldn’t that be a betrayal of Rosie?
She was in a terrible dilemma.
In the end, she knew what she had to do. ‘Good God, Rosie. How could she keep such a thing to herself?’ It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it was the right response, for her and Rosie both.
Rosie regarded her with wide, confused eyes. ‘Sure, I don’t know,’ she answered. ‘I’ve thought about it over and over, and I can’t understand it. Was she afraid of me? Oh, I might have stormed about and given her a lecture. I might even have given her a slap in the heat of anger. But she should have known I would have helped her all the way. I loved her, Molly. Surely to God she never doubted that?’
Molly was quick to reassure her. ‘I’m convinced Sandra would have told you in the fullness of time,’ she said. ‘One thing I do know, she never doubted your love for her, and her love for you was just as strong. She adored you, Rosie, but I don’t need to tell you that, do I?’
‘No.’ Although Rosie had already half-convinced herself of it, the girl’s kindly reassurance was all she needed. A smile lifted her sorrow. ‘Think of it,’ she murmured. ‘I would have been a grandmother. It’s something I’ve wanted for a long time, so it is.’ Drifting deep into thought, she went on softly, ‘I had hoped you and Alfie…’ Pulling herself up sharp, she looked at Molly with horror. ‘Oh, lass. Whatever am I saying?’
‘Nothing I haven’t thought myself, time and again,’ Molly replied, and quickly changing the subject she asked, ‘Do you intend telling Dave about the bairn?’
Rosie considered her answer. ‘At first, I didn’t know he wasn’t already aware of it. But then I realised if he had been, something would surely have been said. I thought Sandra would have wanted him to know, seeing as she’d gone there obviously to find him. I wanted him to bear the blame… to know he had fathered a child and my Sandra had died because of it.’
Pausing, she gathered her thoughts. ‘But then I asked myself, what would it achieve? Sandra’s gone, and nothing can bring her back. Not revenge, not guilt, and not using a poor unborn child to make him feel shame.’
Molly said nothing. There was nothing more she could say that hadn’t already been said.
‘Then there’s Lottie. She obviously knew nothing of his past relationship with Sandra, and it seems she thinks the world of him. From what you told me, before we either of us knew who he was, Lottie is happier than she’s ever been.’
‘I’m sorry, Rosie. So deeply sorry that it all turned out like this.’
‘Ah, sure, you’ve nothing to be sorry about, lass. We were none of us to know what lay in store, and maybe it’s just as well. All I’m saying is, I can’t believe it will do anybody any good if I were to tell that young man how Sandra was carrying his bairn.’ Looking Molly in the eye, she asked pointedly, ‘Am I right, now?’
Molly felt a profound sense of relief. ‘Right or wrong, I would have made exactly the same decision,’ she answered honestly.
Taking a deep breath, Rosie visibly relaxed. ‘That’s good, lass. Sure, it’s what I hoped you’d say.’
So, it was settled. Dave would never know the truth, and Lottie would not be made to feel guilty. Sandra’s secret would be safe with Rosie and Molly. The two of them had talked it through and nothing further would be said.
But Rosie had another confession. ‘I’ve had this a few days now,’ she told Molly. ‘I wasn’t sure whether to show it you or not.’ Taking a folded card out of her pocket, she handed it to Molly.
The first two words, Dearest Rosie, brought a gasp of astonishment from Molly. At once, she had recognised her own mother’s handwriting. ‘It’s from Mam!’
Rosie settled back in her chair. ‘I don’t mind telling you, it was a shock for me an’ all.’
Not wanting to read it, but unable to help herself, Molly read the letter aloud:
Dearest Rosie,
I know I’m probably the last person in the world you expected to hear from, and I hope this letter doesn’t add to your distress.
I saw the newspaper the other day, and was shocked to learn about your Sandra. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. All I know is how I would feel if it was my Molly, or one of the others.
I know I did a bad thing in leaving them, but it doesn’t mean to say I don’t love them, because I do.
My heart goes out to you, Rosie. We’ve been good friends over the years, and I’m thinking of you in your loss.
I want you to know you are never far from my mind. I miss you, and I miss my children.
I’ve enclosed some money. Please, if it’s not too painful, will you buy some flowers and take them to Sandra, with my love.
God bless you, Rosie.
All my love,
Amy.
Her face stiff and unforgiving, Molly folded the card and handed it back to Rosie. ‘I’m glad she at least had the decency to write to you.’
Rosie understood Molly’s hardness, but it made her sad all the same. ‘Is that all you have to say?’
‘What else should I say?’
‘I mean… it sounds to me as if she might be regretting her decision to run off and leave you all.’
‘It didn’t sound like that to me.’
‘Will you never forgive her?’
Molly’s heart ached with love for her mam yet, deep down inside, she could not find it in her to forgive. ‘She didn’t talk it over with me. I’m sure we could have worked something out, if only she’d told me what was going on.’ Anger hardened her heart. ‘She didn’t trust me enough.’
‘She must have been so unhappy, love.’
‘I think about that a lot, but it still doesn’t excuse what she did. Leaving a note like that was such a cowardly thing to do.’
‘I don’t think your mam is really a coward, do you?’
Fighting back her emotions, it was an age before Molly answered. ‘Maybe not. Putting up with Dad, having the last babies one after the other, couldn’t have been easy, especially if she was still in love with this other fella after all these years.’ Molly recalled the evening at the infirmary when Amy had spoken to her about Jack Mason. ‘When she told me about him she seemed years younger, as if she was a young girl again, but I never dreamed she’d run off with him like that, leaving the bairns behind an’ all.’ Regret engulfed her. ‘Oh Rosie, I do want to forgive her, but how can I?’
Rosie had no answer to that. Instead she asked, ‘Do ye think your dad has tried to find her?’
‘Maybe he has, maybe he hasn’t. We don’t talk about it.’
‘Is he still giving you grief over money?’
Molly rolled her eyes to heaven. ‘It’s hard work getting any housekeeping from him.’
‘Have you noticed a change in him lately?’
‘He doesn’t come home drunk so often, if that’s what you mean.’ She chuckled. ‘He hasn’t brought any street-women home neither, not since your Sandra…’
Her voice faltered and she couldn’t go on, and for a time they were silent, lost in fond memories of Sandra.
Presently, Molly had a question. ‘When is Alfie going back?’
‘I wish to God he wasn’t, but he’s planning to leave tomorrow, about three o’clock. His trainer has him on a tight schedule.’
‘Is he happy, Rosie?’
‘No more than you are, lass.’
‘Life’s a mess, isn’t it?’ Bitterness crept back. ‘That’s what I mean, about Mam running off like that. She had no thought for me, or the bairns.’
Her arms opened wide as she glanced round the room. ‘Look at me, Rosie! I’m nineteen years old, and I’ve had to take her place. I can’t do what I want, go where I want, or have the man I love. And though I adore the children, they’re not mine, are they? All I wanted was my Alfie, and bairns of my own.’ Her voice shook with emotion. ‘And now it’s all gone. Our mam took it with her when she ran off.’
‘I know, lass.’ Rosie had seen Molly torn apart, and she had seen the same with Alfie. She had almost blurted out the truth to him today, about Molly and Amy, and everything. But common sense prevailed, and she let it go. To tell him now would be to undo everything she and Molly had planned between them.
Molly seemed to have read her thoughts. ‘You must never tell him,’ she urged. ‘Let him go back knowing nothing.’
Rosie nodded. ‘Ah, sure, I’ll not tell him, don’t worry.’ Getting out of her chair, she said wearily, ‘I’d best get back, lass. Dad’ll be wondering where I am. Mustn’t leave him alone too long.’
‘How is Michael?’
Rosie’s face clouded over. ‘Not good, love. Not good at all. He’s up one minute and down the next. This past week has really knocked the stuffing out of him.’
‘Give him my love, and tell him I’ll come and see him when Alfie’s gone back.’ She couldn’t risk bumping into him again, or she might spill out the truth and that would never do. It had gone too far for that.
Rosie said she understood. ‘You look tired, lass. What say I come round and give ye a hand with the bairns tonight?’ She gave a little chuckle. ‘You wash and I’ll wipe, eh? Then we’ll get them into their beds and have a good old chinwag over a brew. What d’ye say?’
‘Sounds good to me, Rosie. Thanks.’
‘See ye later then.’ And off she went, with a heavy heart, back to her sorrowful home and menfolk. All the light had gone out of their household, for the time being at least.
By the time Rosie made a reappearance, Molly had fed the children, baked a meat and potato pie for her dad, changed the beds, blackleaded the range, and done the washing. Right now, keeping busy was the only way she could cope.
Assailed by the delicious aroma of newly baked meat pie, Rosie looked at the shining range and the pile of freshly washed bedclothes and was astounded. ‘You’ve been busy, haven’t ye?’ she exclaimed.
‘Got to keep on top of it all,’ Molly replied. ‘With our new job taking up hours in the day, the housework has a funny way of creeping up on you when you’re not looking.’
Not for the first time, Rosie took a discreet look at Molly and was more worried than ever; the girl was thinner, peaky-looking, and just now with the sweat glistening on her face, she looked positively worn out.
‘Stop a minute, love.’ Molly was turning the vegetables on the stove top. ‘You look beat, so ye do.’
Leaning against the door jamb, she addressed Molly in a motherly voice. ‘Nobody knows more than I do what you’ve had to endure, what with your mam shifting her own burden to your young shoulders, then your da giving you grief whenever you ask him for money. The children, our Sandra, and now Alfie going back tomorrow…’ She sighed. ‘Don’t punish yourself, darlin’. You’ve nothing to blame yourself for.’
Turning round, Molly smiled at her. ‘Our mam was right. You are a good friend.’
Rolling up her sleeves, Rosie asked, ‘Are the children fed?’
‘Half an hour since.’
‘So that’s your da’s dinner you’re cooking now?’
‘Hmh! Though judging by the way he ran out of here like a scalded cat, like as not he won’t be home till midnight. Which means this lovely pie will spoil in the waiting, an’ I’ll have wasted my time as usual.’
‘Right! The children are fed, so all it needs now is to get them washed and off to bed. Am I right?’
‘Eddie’s already washed and in his cot. The others are in the front room, but they’re too quiet for my liking. I was just about to go and check on them when I’d finished this.’
Rosie made a suggestion. ‘While you’re seeing to your da’s dinner, I’ll get the children ready for their wash. We’ll have them in bed in no time at all, then you can relax afore Frank comes home.’
‘Thanks, Rosie.’ Though she chuckled when she heard Rosie making efforts to marshal the children for their wash, and the children protesting, ‘It’s not fair. We have to wash every single night and morning as well!’
Rosie told them that if they didn’t, the muck would stick to them, and pretty soon they’d be growing potatoes all over their skin. That did the trick!
By quarter past nine, the young ’uns were not only in their beds, but sleeping like little angels. ‘You wore them out with all that soap and scrubbing,’ Molly joked.
‘Aye, an’ it’s good to see you relaxing for a change,’ Rosie retorted. ‘I’m keeping a watchful eye on you from now on, my girl, so I am.’ With Sandra gone and Alfie all set to go back to America, Molly was all she had left; apart from Michael, and he was in a world of his own at the minute.
After they’d finished their cocoa, they talked for a while about Sandra, and while Rosie took the cups back to the scullery, Molly fell asleep, curled in the chair. ‘That’s it, lass.’ Rosie covered her over with a coat from behind the door. ‘Sleep while ye can,’ she murmured. ‘I dare say ye haven’t slept soundly for many a night.’
For a time she just sat there, warming herself in front of the fire, watching Molly and wondering.
‘Should I tell him?’ she whispered. ‘I love you both. I’m doing what you asked, and Alfie is following his dream, but what about you? I know how hard it is for you, me darlin’, but I don’t know if I should go against you and tell Alfie the truth of it, or leave things to sort themselves out.’
In her heart she wanted these two together. Yet Molly had extracted a promise that she would not tell Alfie, and now she was duty bound by it. And yet…
Her eyes went to the sideboard, to a picture of her beloved twins, with Molly in the centre. Going quietly across the room, she picked up the photograph and carrying it back to the chair, looked at it for a long, long time. She saw the joy in Molly’s face, and Alfie smiling, with his arm round her. Then Sandra, brash and bold as ever, lifting her skirt hem and showing off her legs, a wide grin on her face. ‘You were a right little devil, so you were!’
Rosie chuckled at her daughter’s antics. Then the chuckles became tears and she softly sobbed, the picture pressed close to her heart, and her heart so crippled with pain she could hardly bear it.
Slightly inebriated, yet sober enough to have come in without waking the children, Frank found her sitting at the foot of the stairs bent over the picture and sobbing uncontrollably. ‘Hey!’ He went over to her. ‘Come on, Rosie. What’s all this, eh?’
Ashamed to have been found like that, especially by Frank, she stood up. ‘I’ll go now,’ she murmured. ‘Molly’s asleep. The children, too.’ Looking up at him now, seeing the compassion in his dark eyes, she realised how, by hurting Amy he had hurt Molly and the rest of his children. He had indirectly separated Alfie and Molly, driven Lottie away, and now, when it was all too late, he had begun to mend his ways.
Suddenly, to Frank’s astonishment, she was beating at him with her fists, not shouting or accusing, but still sobbing wildly. Grabbing her by the wrists, he drew her to him. ‘Ssh now!’ He wiped her tears and looked down into her stricken face, and something happened between them; a feeling, a certain loneliness, connected them. Whatever it was, it had them holding each other, unable to let go.
When the kiss came, it began nervously, and then a flood of emotion overwhelmed them and they were kissing with a passion that neither of them had ever felt before.
Shocked and uncertain, Rosie pushed him away. ‘NO!’ Her face was stark white. She shook her head and fled down the passage. At the front door, she glanced back to see Frank staring at her, his dark eyes frowning, hands at his sides and a look of confusion on his face.
Molly’s voice broke the spell. ‘Rosie?’ The parlour door opened and she popped her head out. ‘Dad!’ She hadn’t realised. ‘Where’s Rosie?’
‘She’s gone,’ he said flatly, and began to make his way up the stairs.
‘Your dinner’s in the oven,’ Molly called after him.
But he wasn’t listening. He had suddenly realised that the slight attraction he’d always felt for Rosie Craig was not just a fancy. Holding her close to him just then, lost in that wonderful kiss, had confirmed it.
At his age, when he had made a mess of his marriage and let his kids down, he had fallen in love. ‘Bloody ridiculous!’ he muttered. ‘A bloke like me doesn’t fall in love.’
Rosie was experiencing the same disturbing feelings. Her late husband had been her one and only love. In all this time she had never wanted any other man, not in a serious way. And certainly not a man with the reputation of Frank Tattersall!
Now though, she had been swept into his arms, and to a place she had never thought to be. The truth was, in that wonderful, intimate moment, she had realised something quite shocking.
Somewhere in her heart, she had opened a door. Frank Tattersall had made his way in, and now she couldn’t seem to get him out.
‘Jaysus, Mary and Joseph!’ Her mind and senses were in turmoil. ‘What have I done?’