‘Saw Noreen Murphy earlier. She says you’ve put Kieran off.’
As soon as Matilda saw Chris heading up the stairs towards her she let him know what was on her mind.
She’d been filling the kettle at the sink on the landing. When done, she followed her nephew into her room and closed the door against the gloomy cold. Having kicked back into place the sausage of rags that served as a draught excluder, she set the kettle on the hob.
‘Had to …’ Chris sighed a reply as he sat down. ‘Didn’t want to, but …’ His voice tailed away.
‘Rob know, does he?’
Chris gave a noncommittal shrug.
‘Your uncle never knew you took him on, did he? You’ve been paying Kieran outta yer own wages ’cos that bastard O’Connor wouldn’t settle up with him, and the Murphys didn’t have a pot ter piss in over Christmas.’ She gave Chris an admiring smile. ‘That’s a fine and generous thing to do fer someone you hardly know.’
‘Wish I could’ve done more, but I can’t … not now …’
‘Can’t be expected to. Things have changed for you in a big way.’
Chris planted his elbows on the battered table and cupped his face in his hands. ‘Feel bad about taking back all me pay but … never gonna get enough saved to get married otherwise.’
‘Grace been on to you to get shot of Kieran?’ There was no accusation in Matilda’s tone. It was sensible and acceptable in her estimation for a young woman to scrape together every penny she could get hold of to set up her own home with her future husband.
‘No.’ He grunted a laugh. ‘If she knew she’d be upset I’d done it.’
‘Not told her then?’
Chris shook his head.
‘Seen yer mum lately?’ Matilda fired off another question that had been niggling at her.
‘Saw her Christmas Day. Took her a present. Ain’t seen her since,’ Chris stated, staccato-voiced, avoiding Matilda’s astute gaze.
‘Sounded like you wanted to add, and don’t want to see her neither …’ Matilda set his tea in front of him.
Chris took a sip and turned his head. He held out a palm to the warmth coming off the small stove.
‘What’s up, Chris? You had a big barney with Stevie about seeing Pam over Christmas?’
‘He still don’t know I’ve found her. I’ve not told him anything, and he’s not asked. S’pect he’s been too busy with the caff to bring it to mind.’
‘Well something’s eating away at yer, I can see that.’
After a short silence Chris straightened in his chair and gazed at his aunt.
‘Remember you said, ages ago when I first started talking about finding her, that it was up to me mum to have an honest talk with me about the reason they split up?’
Matilda nodded. ‘Yeah, I do. It were the day I come over to Crouch End to speak to Stevie about it all.’
‘She did tell me: she said she nearly poisoned me ’cos she couldn’t cope with me when I was a baby, but s’pose you already knew that.’
Matilda remained quiet, mulling over how hurt Chris must have been to hear it. But admiration for Pam for having the guts to admit to it dominated her mind. ‘Were brave of her to tell you something like that,’ she stressed gently. ‘She could easily have lied. Tell you the truth, I thought she would.’
Chris gave a sour smile. ‘That’s what Grace said, more or less. Seems women stick together on these things.’
‘Ain’t sticking together, son, it’s understanding that being a wife and a mother ain’t all hearts and flowers. You should be glad your Grace already knows it.’
‘Yeah …’ Chris stood up. ‘Gotta be off, now …’
‘Seeing Grace later?’
‘Dunno. Doubt it. We had a bit of a row last week.’
‘Got it coming from all sides then, ain’t yer?’ Matilda said.
As Chris trudged towards the door, fiddling with opening a pack of cigarettes, she said, ‘Look at yer: tall, strong as an ox, handsome with it. No lasting harm done, Chris; no need to get bitter over it now and let it sour all the good things you got to look forward to.’ She waited till he turned towards her before adding, ‘Yer mother’s paid her dues, you can’t say she ain’t, knowing the life she’s had. Let it go.’ She gave him a smile as he got a cigarette alight and immediately started to cough. ‘’Course you could cut down on them ’n’ give yerself a few more years.’ She took the packet and dropped it back in his overalls’ pocket. ‘Choke up chicken …’ she added, patting his back. ‘How long you been barking like that?’
‘Ain’t nothing … just caught it off Dad; he’s got a bad cold he can’t shake off.’
‘Didn’t need that on top of all the rest, did yer?’ She gripped his arm comfortingly. ‘It’ll all come right, you mark my words. Come Coronation Day you’ll be dancing in the street with your lovely fiancée.’
‘Well, this is a nice surprise,’ Matilda called out of the window, beaming in pleasure. ‘Come on up … door ain’t locked.’
It was the first time Grace had been alone to Whadcoat Street. She hadn’t told Chris she was planning on visiting his aunt, not because she didn’t want him to know, but because she hadn’t seen much of him. The cough he’d had had worsened enough to take him to the doctor’s last week. But Grace knew it wasn’t just a bout of bronchitis keeping them apart. He was using illness as an excuse to see her less often. Chris had been distant and cool ever since the incident with Hugh outside her office.
When Grace had seen Matilda during the Christmas holiday she’d promised her she’d write out Coronation Day invitations before Easter. But with the friction between her and Chris worsening she’d forgotten all about starting on the task. Yet it wasn’t just duty that had brought her to Whadcoat Street on a chilly Saturday afternoon in March. On the way to Islington on the bus she’d mulled over whether to ask Matilda if Chris had confided in her that he wanted to break off their engagement. If anybody had Chris’s trust, it was his great-aunt Matilda.
‘Weeks are marching on; it’ll soon be Easter and we need to get them invitations sent out about now, I reckon. Then if some people choose to stick close to home for their Coronation Day dos we can get by with less grub and booze, or ask a few more folk over to make up the numbers.’ Matilda had fired that at Grace before the young woman had fully explained the reason for her visit and was properly seated at her old table. ‘I reckon everybody’ll come, y’know.’ Matilda stuck the kettle on the hob and set two cups and saucers.
‘Hope so,’ Grace replied with a bright smile. She took the pieces of folded paper that Matilda had pulled from the drawer in the table and was now holding out to her, and put them in her handbag.
‘Faye writ that list out for me so you’ll be able to understand it. Got a beautiful hand, she has.’ Matilda spooned tea into the pot while giving Grace a closer look. She guessed the girl had something on her mind and had an idea of what it might be. Stevie had told her that Chris was suffering with bronchitis and had hardly seen Grace. But Matilda had spotted her great-nephew, at a distance, working along the road. She knew that if Chris was fit enough to work, he was fit enough to see the woman he loved. If he wanted to, and still loved her. Matilda hoped that was the case because she’d grown fond of Grace and was sad to think something bad had blown up between the young couple. ‘Had a word with Rob about the trestle tables we’re gonna need fer the kids’ tea party,’ she said, stirring the brew, and pondering on the wisdom of sticking her oar into this problem. ‘He’s got a few decorators’ trestles in the yard down Holloway Road but we’ll need more than that. I expect Stevie’ll let us have some tables out of his caff.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Grace said, injecting enthusiasm into her voice. ‘I’ll start on the invitations tomorrow,’ she promised, taking the cup of tea Matilda had poured for her.
‘Penny for ’em …’ Matilda sat down opposite Grace, having decided to have her say.
‘Oh … it’s nothing …’ Grace blurted. She was always startled by Matilda’s blunt approach and hadn’t yet worked out how to go about asking for the woman’s advice.
‘You ’n’ Chris had words?’
After a moment Grace nodded, blinking back tears that had started immediately to her eyes. ‘Had a row a while ago and things haven’t been right since,’ she croaked.
‘Will it patch up eventually?’
‘Don’t know …’ Grace admitted huskily. ‘He won’t say much about it or tell me how he’s feeling. I’ve said sorry …’
‘So what’ve you got to be sorry about?’
Grace fiddled with the handle on her cup. ‘I … I went for a drink with an old boyfriend and Chris found out.’
‘So, he’s jealous, you mean. Does he need to be?’
‘No!’ Grace insisted. ‘I only met Hugh because …’ She tailed off. She didn’t want Matilda to think her greedy and mercenary, and yet sometimes that’s how she saw herself. She’d stupidly risked her happiness with Chris for money.
‘Yer mum told me once that you was going to get married before but your fiancé did the dirty on you. Same fellow, is it?’ Matilda enquired.
Grace nodded. ‘He’s a creep and Chris knows it ’cos I’ve told him all about Hugh. And I’ve explained why I met him that day. But he doesn’t seem to want to believe the truth.’ She raked her fingers through her fringe of fair hair before owning up, ‘I wanted to get some money to put towards our wedding savings.’ Grace took a quick gulp of tea before elaborating. ‘When Hugh broke off our engagement I lost money I’d put down as deposits on the wedding. I admit I’ve felt resentful over it and would have liked it back. Then when Hugh started pestering me at work saying he felt guilty and wanted to pay back some of what I lost, I thought … why not? So I agreed to see him one dinnertime …’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘But I should have known the swine was lying, as usual.’
‘More interested in getting cosy with you than clearing his conscience, was he?’ Matilda cackled a laugh.
‘Exactly!’ Grace sighed. ‘And Chris won’t believe that’s all it was.’
Matilda patted Grace’s fingers curled on the tabletop. ‘If it’s meant to work out, it’ll work out. And if you want my opinion, I think it will ’cos Chris ain’t a fool, and if he lets you slip through his fingers, that’s what he’ll be.’ Matilda stood up and shook the kettle. ‘More tea?’
‘I’d best get back,’ Grace said huskily. She gathered up her bag and buttoned her coat.
‘We’re gonna have the time of our lives in a few months on Coronation Day, Grace … all of us …’
‘Thanks for tea … and everything.’ Grace suddenly felt rather shy, and unsure whether it had been wise to disclose quite so much. She knew Chris wouldn’t have told a soul about their personal troubles.
Matilda heard Grace clattering down her rickety stairs and went to the window, watching the young woman pulling up her collar against the cold before hurrying away. A sigh escaped Matilda’s withered lips. Much as she felt like going after her great-nephew to talk some sense into him, she knew she wouldn’t. If Chris was getting cold feet, and using Grace’s old flame as an excuse to call off a wedding he was unsure about, that was his business. It would be better for everybody if he wriggled free now than went ahead and regretted getting married. No doubt his father would also want to impress that on him.
Later that evening, Grace could no longer contain her frustrations.‘I can’t stand these silences between us. If you think you’ve made a mistake and want to call the engagement off, just say so.’
‘Has he contacted you again?’
‘No! I’ve told you no a thousand times, why won’t you listen to me?’ Grace cried in a muted voice. ‘I haven’t seen Hugh Wilkins in weeks and weeks and I’m not expecting to.’
Chris drew out his cigarette pack and opened it, about to light another, despite him giving a sudden, hacking cough.
In exasperation Grace snatched at the carton and threw it into the back of the van. ‘And it’s no use moaning you don’t feel well and haven’t any money when you’re spending out every day on those and making yourself cough!’ She covered her face with her hands, muttering bitterly through her fingers, ‘Sorry! It’s up to you if you want to smoke fifty a day and waste money rather than save for a deposit on a house.’
Chris sank back into his seat, suppressing another tickle in his throat. ‘Perhaps we should have a proper break from each other, till I can …’
‘Till you can what?’ Grace let her hands fall to her lap. Her eyes darted to him and instinctively she twisted the diamond ring on her finger. ‘Till you can trust me? Is that what you were about to say?’
‘No … I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say … till I can sort out the mess in my head.’ He glanced at her, inwardly wincing at the hurt and confusion in her eyes, but he couldn’t find the right words to comfort her while his thoughts were scrambled. He couldn’t seem to control his anger or his jealousy. He wanted to track down Hugh Wilkins and properly ram his teeth down his throat this time. But it wasn’t just his rival unsettling him. Thoughts of Pamela were constantly niggling at the back of his mind too. ‘It’s not just about us, Grace, or that prick you were engaged to before. One minute I think I hate her and never want to see her again, the next I think I’ll go over there so she can explain why she hated me so much.’
‘Your mother didn’t hate you, Chris,’ Grace said wearily. ‘If she had she wouldn’t have tried to see you after your father took you away. She made a mistake, a dreadful mistake, and she’s owned up to it. I wish I’d not interfered …’ Her husky voice petered out before springing back to life. ‘It’s my own fault. I kept on at you about seeing her. Everything was alright between us till you went to see your mother on Christmas Day and got to know her better.’
Chris gazed sombrely into the darkness. He knew he shouldn’t keep sniping at Grace about her ex-fiancé when in his heart he understood more than jealousy was gnawing at his guts. He also knew it was best they stayed away from each other for a while or he risked destroying the finest thing that had ever come into his life. And he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.
‘The lads are going down Harringay Stadium at the end of the week. They’ve asked me if I want to go …’
‘Go. You deserve a night out. Go,’ Grace said and forced a smile before she quickly got out of the van and went indoors.