‘I wish I was going with you,’ said Margaret, a dull ache in her chest as she watched William stir a huge pan of beans, oats and treacle for the horses; Dixon was having a day off. ‘I dreamt of visiting faraway places before a house replaced that dream.’
William had a berth on a merchant navy vessel and would be working his passage to Hong Kong. Later that day he would take the ferry to Birkenhead docks and his ship would leave on the morning tide.
He flashed that smile which still had such power to charm. ‘I promise when I get back if you still want to go travelling we’ll go.’
‘I’ll keep you to that,’ she said, getting up from her perch on the empty treacle barrel. ‘You will come back, won’t you?’
He put down the ladle and took her into his arms, smoothing back her hair with an unsteady hand. ‘Of course.’
‘Promise?’ There were tears in her eyes.
‘Cross my heart.’ He kissed her and she snuggled into him.
‘I wish we could have got married before you go.’
‘Me too. But we’ll have the rest of our lives.’
Despite his reassurances, what if all there was is now? She wanted him, needed to ease the ache inside her. Surely he wanted her in the same way? She would regret it for the rest of her life if she let him go without showing how much she loved him.
‘Can you leave this mix?’ she said abruptly. ‘I never did get to see Sam’s work of art upstairs. I want you to show it me now. I want to lie on your bed and look at it and dream what you dream. I want our ship to come in now full of goodies.’
William was silent but the expression on his face caused a lump to rise in her throat and she knew he understood what she was trying to say. ‘Come on, then!’ He seized her hand and ran with her to the house.
Once inside his bedroom, neither of them spared a glance for Sam’s sailing ship. They undressed hastily and snuggled down beneath the bedcovers and gazed into each other’s eyes.
‘I’m not going to talk about being in love with you since we first met,’ said William. ‘You should know that by now. And I know you care about me despite all the arguments we’ve had and the times we’ve fell out.’
She was almost too scared to admit how much she cared for him. Her silence did not seem to bother him. He kissed her gently, then exerted more pressure as she responded and clung to him with all her strength. There was no holding back now. She returned his kisses with a passion that even surprised her. He kicked down the bedcovers and began to kiss her naked body, trailing his lips in a downward path. She gasped with pleasure, never having thought being caressed in such a way could be so delightful at her age. His hands were on her hips and then he was inside her. It was a new experience in a relationship that went back to their youth and she wasn’t going to waste a moment in letting the pain of his entry detract from the act she had wanted to share with him all those years ago. She was definitely not going to worry about what might be the outcome. He clasped her buttocks firmly with both hands and moved slowly inside her, tantalizingly slow, the movement soothing, sensual and she could feel excitement building up. Suddenly she felt a wonderful explosion inside her and clung to him, moaning that she loved him. All the frustrations of the past were forgotten. They had come full circle and she felt that she was where she belonged.
Afterwards they lay drowsily gazing at Sam’s work of art. ‘I wonder what he was thinking of when he painted it?’ murmured Margaret, idly twisting a curl on William’s chest round her little finger.
‘Of my reaction. He’s someone who needs someone else to tell him he’s good. Doesn’t have confidence in himself.’
‘Don’t we all feel like that at times?’ She hugged William and wished they could make love all over again. Now she knew what real intimacy was like and wanted it to be permanent. ‘Oh, why do you have to go?’ she whimpered, and nibbled his ear.
‘Ouch! Why did you do that?’ There was laughter in his voice.
‘Because I’m hurting here.’ She held his hand against her breast.
The laughter faded in his eyes. ‘Me too. So don’t make it any harder for me to go than it is already.’ He kissed her long and hard and then pushed her away from him and got out of bed.
They dressed and went downstairs. He accompanied her to the gate and they stood a moment in the shade out of the sun. Sparrows pecked at the crumbs in the road and she watched them, remembering what was written in the Bible about God knowing even when a sparrow fell. She looked at William and said, ‘If you don’t come back I’ll never forgive you.’
He held her hand and said tenderly, ‘Trust me! I’ll be back before you know it. Thanks for everything.’ He kissed her.
She did not say goodbye but walked away, knowing that the months to come were going to be difficult without him.
A couple of weeks later Margaret received a postcard from Gibraltar. She had written to William, hoping a mail boat would reach there before he left. He had written that the Bay of Biscay had been rough but they were making good time.
The next postcard arrived the day Margaret woke feeling sick and threw up. On the front was a photograph of the pyramids; on the back he had written that they’d passed through the Suez Canal and it was hot. He was well and she was constantly in his thoughts. He thanked her for her letter and asked if Billy was home. She pinned the postcard on the wall above the fireplace and wished she could write, Yes! Come home. I’m ill and I want you. But, of course, she didn’t do anything of the sort.
Margaret continued to be sick every morning in the weeks that followed and her emotions were all over the place. One minute she was filled with fear and shame and the next she felt joyful and exhilarated. Should she write and tell William those too brief moments they had spent making love had resulted in a child? She felt certain he would return, but what of his need to find Billy? Besides, she could miscarry and it would be a wasted journey on his part. For now she had to go it alone and hope he would find Billy and that they would be home before the baby arrived.
The thought of giving birth filled her with trepidation. She squirmed with embarrassment, imagining the chin-wagging in the neighbourhood. She would never live it down. The gossips would have a field day. As for telling Rita and Sam, she couldn’t face up to it yet. Maybe she should go on a long holiday until the baby was born, she thought in panic. Yet not once did she consider getting rid of the baby. If anything was to happen to William it was all that she would have left of him. She would pray that when he reached Hong Kong, by some miracle Billy would be waiting for him. William was behaving like a proper father to his son, so how could she come between them? As it was, there was news of another baby. Alice was pregnant.
Months passed before Margaret received the next missal from William. Postmarked Bombay it described the sights he had seen and informed her their next ports of call would be Ceylon and Singapore before finally docking in Hong Kong. He had received the letter about Alice’s pregnancy and written to her. He hoped Margaret was well and the yard still doing OK. Lots of love, Will.
With a sinking heart Margaret placed a hand on her swelling belly, knowing there was little likelihood of him getting home in time for the birth.
She glanced at her niece and knew she could no longer delay telling her about the baby.
Rita had borrowed a globe from Sarah for them to trace William’s journey to the other side of the world. ‘I knew it was a long way but I never realised just how many thousands of miles Billy travelled when he breezed in here as if he’d only just been round the block. He must have had to cope with all sorts of scary things – storms at sea, unrest at ports when the ship had to take on water, fuel and provisions. The ports might be part of the Empire but the British aren’t always welcome.’
‘I don’t want to know about such things!’ cried Margaret, twitching nervously. She took a deep breath. ‘I’m having a baby and I need you to help me to cope with what lies ahead!’
Rita’s hand stilled on the globe and the muscles of her face froze in an expression of pure astonishment. For a moment she could not speak, then she said, ‘Surprise, surprise! There’s no use me asking whether you’re sure. You wouldn’t be telling me otherwise. Is it Mr Brodie’s?’
‘Who else’s could it be? I’m not one for jumping into every Tom, Dick or Harry’s bed.’ Her voice broke and she buried her face in her hands and added in a muffled voice, ‘After all the things I said to you that time over Jimmy.’
‘That was natural! You felt responsible for me.’ Feeling awkward but strangely protective, Rita put an arm round her aunt’s shoulders. ‘When’s it due? What are you going to do?’
‘Round about Christmas, and I plan to move.’ Margaret glanced up at her. ‘Thanks for taking it so calmly.’
Rita choked on a laugh. ‘I don’t feel calm inside. But I’ll tell you something: I’m glad it’s you and not me.’
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears.
‘Don’t,’ pleaded Rita, hugging her. ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’
Margaret lifted her head and gave her one of her looks. Rita grinned. ‘That’s more like you. So where are we going to move to and when?’
Margaret had no answer to that until a while later when she received two letters on the same day. One was from William, who after speaking to a padre who had seen Billy, was off to Peking. He made no mention of the Japanese and anti-foreign feelings running high in China that she had read about in a newspaper. The other was from Alice, who had given birth to a daughter. She asked about Billy, saying she had not heard from him for months.
Margaret’s expression was strained as she looked at Rita and Sam across the breakfast table. ‘I don’t know what to tell her about him. I want to give her some hope but it’s over a year since we’ve seen him.’
‘You mustn’t give up hope,’ said Sam, buttering a slice of toast. ‘Don’t forget things are topsy-turvy in China. Mr Dixon told me there’s warlords ruling over different parts of it, and they haven’t trains and buses like we have. It’s rickshaws, long marches and horses. Even the Japanese have control of only a chunk of China where they’ve built a railway – and half the roads and bridges have been blown up in the fighting. Still, yer’ve got to hang on and have some faith in Mr Brodie and Billy.’
‘Sam’s right!’ Rita placed her hand over her aunt’s. ‘All what he’s saying is horrible but it could explain why we haven’t heard from them. They could be cut off somewhere, unable to get to a port.’
Margaret placed the letters back in their envelopes. ‘You’re right! But I’ve been through this waiting game before. What’s making it so difficult is trying to believe Billy’s gone there after artefacts. It doesn’t hold water! There’s something Will hasn’t told me and when he gets back I’m going to have it out with him. In the meantime we’ve got to move. People will be putting two and two together once I get larger.’
Sam and Rita exchanged glances. She had already told him about her aunt’s condition and he had been silent for at least an hour, before asking would it make any difference to them. After being reassured it wouldn’t, he had accepted it, although Rita had noticed him looking at Margaret with an anxious expression on his face. Perhaps he feared, like her, that her aunt might die in childbirth. ‘So where are we going?’ asked Rita.
Margaret pleated the tablecloth between her fingers. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I work some figures out.’
Her dream house was back on the market, the leaseholder having gone bankrupt. She determined to make an offer, having discovered the lease would cost her only half of what it would have done three years ago. It was a risk because her income from the shop had also dropped. The Depression had deepened. The queues outside the Employment Exchange in Renshaw Street were growing week by week, and those frequenting the pawnshops could no longer afford to get their possessions out of hock. It was a sad state of affairs for her customers. Fortunately the income from the yard was steady. She had spent out on a lorry going for a song and Sam had learnt to drive. He was ruthlessly competitive when it came to grabbing any business there was; the yard was building up a reputation for getting deliveries done at top speed. Thinking of her baby’s future, if anything should happen to her she had also invested money into an automobile firm in the Midlands, as well as a film company. Just as during the Great War people had needed to escape the misery all around them, so they did now and the new talkies were extremely popular.
She took a chance and made an offer for the house. It was accepted and she breathed easier. Exhausted by the strain of everything, she told Rita and Sam what she had done, and thrilled her niece by giving her certain orders and sending her off to the house with Sam while she put her feet up.
‘Wow! It’s some size,’ he said, his head thrown back as he gazed at the central staircase winding its spiral way up through each floor of the house to the top in decorative wrought iron splendour. Sunshine flooded through a central dome. ‘She must have more money than I thought to afford this.’
‘She got it cheap and said if things get any tougher she’ll be renting out rooms. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ said Rita, trying to imagine throwing a party in this hall on a summer evening. She had never had a party in her life. She scolded herself. What was she doing thinking of parties when there was still no news of Billy and Mr Brodie? She worried as much as Margaret but kept it to herself. She slipped her hand through Sam’s arm. ‘Come on! Let’s go and pick our bedrooms.’
‘I thought Miss Sinclair wanted me to carry on living over the shop.’
Rita grimaced. ‘I’d forgotten. I must admit I don’t like that idea. I’m going to miss you. These days you’re either up at the yard or out delivering so that I hardly see you much as it is.’ She paused as they came to the first floor and her brown eyes widened as she gazed about the huge landing. ‘We’re going to need more than Mrs Richards to keep this place clean and do the cooking. Unless Aunt Margaret does let out rooms.’
Sam followed Rita into a front bedroom. She gazed out of the window at the bare branches of the trees, thinking it was heavenly having the garden in the centre of the square to look out on. If her mother could see her now she’d be green with envy. Margaret had said Abercromby Square had been named after a professor at Liverpool University, who had designed a youth hostel in North Wales for the YHA. Hundreds of young Liverpudlians had taken to rambling or cycling in the countryside to escape the city.
Sam sidled up to her. ‘We could get married and then take turns at staying in each place.’
Rita’s heart flipped over. She stared at his pleasant face, thinking how the scruffy runt she had befriended had turned into the man at her side. They had discussed marriage several times but she had always said no. She loved Sam and knew he loved her but they were not in love. Yet he was such a kind person she knew she would be safe with him. Besides, she would like to have children and if she could not have Billy’s, then Sam’s would do. He would make a good father.
‘I’ll let you have an answer later today,’ she murmured, then changed the subject. ‘I believe years ago this room would have been a family sitting room and that’s why it’s so large. Perhaps Aunt Margaret would like to keep it as one.’
‘I prefer small rooms myself. They’re cosier!’
She did not argue with him but opened the catalogue obtained from Wades Furnishings. Margaret had ticked the items she was interested in and Rita tried to imagine the furniture in place.
She picked a bedroom for herself on the second floor overlooking the rear walled garden and pencilled notes against the illustrations in the catalogue. It seemed to take ages to go over the house. Sam got fed up halfway and sat on the stairs, reading an Edgar Wallace thriller.
When she had finished Rita squeezed up beside him. ‘Perhaps I will marry you, Sam.’
She had to say it twice before he heard her and dragged himself out of the book. His face creased into a smile. ‘Honest? I’d feel better married.’
‘Good!’ She kissed him lightly on the lips.
He hugged her. ‘I’ll buy you a ring. There’s one in the shop I’ve had my eye on for some time.’
‘Let’s go and tell my aunt.’
Margaret was not the least surprised when they told her. ‘I’ve never heard the pair of you utter a cross word to the other. So when’s the wedding to be?’
‘June,’ said Sam firmly. ‘I’m going to be busy until then. The horse show’s coming up in May and that means more work for all of us.’
Rita agreed June was a lovely month to get married. Sam bought a garnet and pearl ring that Margaret let him have for a special price and on Saturday they splashed out and had supper at the Silver Grill in Dale Street. On Sunday they went to matins and booked the church.
They moved into Abercromby Square the week before Christmas. Margaret took to wearing a wedding ring. She was getting more and more frightened as the birth drew near. She changed her doctor. There were three women doctors who shared a house in the square. When she went into labour on Boxing Day, Rita was hammering on their front door at the first twinge.
Dr Foley examined Margaret and smiling said she would be back after lunch. As it was, the baby did not arrive until evening. A tight-lipped Margaret had stopped trying to be brave and was giving vent to her feelings by cursing everyone she knew by name – including William. The doctor rolled up her sleeves, told her to behave herself and to give some nice little pushes.
Within the hour Margaret’s son made his appearance. She fell in love with him immediately. His hair was dark and curly and his eyes blue just like his father’s. She named him Jonathan William and he weighed in at seven pounds six ounces. As she put him to her breast, a fierce pride filled her. She thought of William and tears filled her eyes and she prayed one day he would see their son.