In London, Rose met Jake from time to time, usually with Madeleine, but sometimes on his own. Jake still lived in the shabby room in the poor area of London and Rose joined Madeleine in trying to persuade him to move.
‘I don’t feel secure enough in the job to risk having to pay more rent,’ he insisted. ‘If I get a promotion then, yes, I’ll look for somewhere in more salubrious surroundings.’ He looked questioningly at Madeleine. ‘Is there any chance?’
‘I asked Jerry as promised, Jake, and he said he would consider it. Since then he hasn’t mentioned it, but don’t give up. I think he really is doing just that, thinking about it. I know one of the salesmen is intending to give notice this month, so I planted the seed of the idea at just the right time.’
Jake muttered his thanks. He wanted a better job, of course he did; a chance of earning more money, of saving the money he needed for the wedding and the bed and breakfast business he and Zena had planned – but he was also disappointed. Leaving the firm would have been an excuse to return to Cold Brook Vale and Zena; a chance to start again and reaffirm their relationship. He had made new friends, and Madeleine and Rose filled many happy hours but he was lonely for Zena and her family in Llyn Hir, a family he’d known all his life. Losing a job would mean he could go home and that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Or was he still enchanted with the London life and wished Zena would join him? He stopped worrying. His fate lay with the boss’s decision, not with his own, didn’t it?
A few days later, Jeremy Fielding sent for him. He tidied himself as well as he could, straightened his collar and tie, combed his thick blond hair, rubbed his shoes with his sleeve and hurried to the office.
He wasn’t invited to sit and he stood while Jeremy Fielding thumbed through a sheaf of papers, trying to hide his nervousness, telling himself it didn’t matter whether or not he was offered a better job, that either way it would make his decision for him, go home or stay in London, it would be for the best. He watched the man’s face, trying to judge from his expression what his immediate future would be.
Jeremy finally looked up and gave a friendly smile. ‘Jake, I’ve been looking at your record for the short time you have been with us and the management has considered giving you a try as a sales representative. How d’you feel about that?’
‘That’s wonderful, sir. I like people and I’d love to meet customers and help them with their choices. Selling is something I’ve always felt I would excel at given a chance.’
‘You will start by accompanying one of our experienced men, then you’ll have an area of your own to cover. A circle around London, taking in the home counties. Then, if you do well, we’ll send you further afield.’
‘Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.’
‘You do have a car? And a passport?’
‘Yes, sir. A passport? That sounds very exciting.’
‘It is, but it all depends on how well you do during the first few months.’
As he closed the office door, Madeleine was standing there and he raised two thumbs in a silent signal to show his success. They went into her office and hugged. He kissed her cheek then, slightly embarrassed, he moved from her and sat on a chair. ‘How can I thank you? Madeleine, you have been – and are – a wonderful friend. I am so fortunate that coming to this place, so different from everything I’d known, that I found you. Thank you, for helping, and being a friend and – oh, come here!’ He stood up from the chair and hugged her and kissed her cheek again. This time it was Madeleine who moved away, to stand behind her desk. Jake didn’t apologize.
‘Shall we meet Rose tonight and celebrate?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I need to mark this day and how better than with my two best friends?’ It was more than an hour before he thought of telling Zena.
Mabs was very glad of Greg’s help in the night café as, for some reason, the numbers of customers suddenly increased. It had been open for several years and rarely attracted more than eight people, but it was as though news had spread and others came to see if it was a place to spend a few of the lonely hours.
She and Frank had never asked the customers not to talk about the place but she knew they rarely did. They wanted it to be their secret and didn’t want it to be so busy that the character of their night time haven would change.
Three strangers came one night and introduced themselves to very reluctant regulars. Will, Albert and Ted all lived in a small village about three miles away and they told Mabs they had heard of it from a man called Henry. Sid whispered to her that they must have met in prison. ‘Clean hands, and typical haircuts,’ he said mysteriously. ‘Ex-prisoners they are, can’t mistake ’em.’
The men behaved without causing problems; they seemed to know instinctively that questions would be frowned on and they sat and read the papers and played the various games, Albert making Henry growl menacingly by winning against him at draughts and then chess. He stood and seemed about to accuse them of cheating but a glance from Mabs and he sat down again.
They left just before the café closed. One of them came to the counter and offered a hand, a neat, clean hand she noticed with a smile. ‘Thank you, Missus, we appreciate you letting us stay. Your welcome makes us all feel more hopeful of a better future. Ex-cons we are, if you haven’t guessed, but now we’re going straight.’ All three touched their foreheads in a salute and they left, calling goodnight to the others.
The rest shuffled out soon after, calling, ‘Goodnight Frankie, Greg, see you tomorrow.’
The three newcomers stood for a while on the corner of the street, discussing in soft tones the people they had met. Sid hid in the doorway and stared at them. He was always suspicious of any newcomer and in his opinion, three arriving at the same time certainly needed watching. He waited until the men moved off and in the chill dawn followed them.
He didn’t notice one of them leave but suddenly there were only two. Then a voice behind him, very close to his ear said,’ Following us, are you? Why is that then? Frankie’s little watch dog, are you?’
The others moved back and Sid felt afraid. Then the three men laughed and walked away. Sid didn’t try to follow, he scuttled around the corner and ran back home.
Zena hadn’t heard from Jake for two weeks. The enthusiastic keeping in touch hadn’t lasted very long and the phone calls and letters gradually faded and two weeks ago had stopped altogether. She still wrote but with so little contact there seemed little to say. Doubting that there was any chance of him reading her words, but others doing so, she said nothing of any importance. There was news about the family and a few comments on her job. She told him about Nelda and her little girls; he didn’t know them but the chatter filled a page. She thought of the wives whose husbands had been away for years during the war and felt a surprising sympathy for the few who had gone astray, looking for love and comfort, while the letters from their men became more and more like those from a stranger.
She rarely saw Janey when she went to clean the house but her mother was often there, watching and checking on everything. Then there were the notes. Almost every time there was a list of things Janey needed her to do. Frequently these were things she normally did anyway, the implication being her failure to do the jobs properly. She suspected that the notes were written, not by Janey, but by her mother.
One day she met Janey and asked why she was so dissatisfied with what she achieved in two hours. ‘To be frank, it takes me more than half an hour to sort the kitchen, before I start on the rest,’ she explained politely.
‘The kitchen? But I clear up before I leave every morning. It’s the one place I do try to keep clean.’
Politeness forgotten, Zena asked, ‘What about the spilt flour the other morning? The dishes left in the sink for me to wash? And the saucepans and the frying pan on the table, leaving pools of grease? And a week ago, there was spilt milk and broken milk bottles on the door step. I had to make sure that was cleared away in case the children hurt themselves. It all takes time.’
Janey stared at her. ‘I left none of those things. I wouldn’t. I value your help too much.’
‘Someone did.’
‘But who? The cats, d’you think?’
‘A cat is one way of describing the culprit,’ Zena muttered. ‘Your mother doesn’t like me, does she?’ she asked pointedly.
‘I hope you aren’t suggesting that my mother would do this? Of course it wasn’t Mammy, these are the actions of a child.’
‘They don’t seem like the actions of a child to me.’ She paused, but Janey said nothing. ‘Well, I’ll leave it for you to fathom but I’m giving notice. I’ll come for another week to give you a chance to find someone else, then I’m leaving.’
She cycled home filled with a sense of relief. She had other people asking for her services and it would be easy to fill the hours she had been giving to Janey; and they would be pleased with what she did, not critical. With Janey – or her mother – she would never be able to do enough. She always did more than clients expected and Trish was the only one to complain. What a relief to say goodbye to Janey and her miserable mother.
It was raining and a cold wind was blowing but, as she rode, her head uncovered and hands cold in soaking wet gloves, she sang at the top of her voice, ‘O-o-o-o-h, it ain’t gonner rain no more no more, it ain’t gonner rain no more—’
Once home, warm and dry, she sat to write to Jake again, intending to tell him she had ticked Janey off her list of clients, but after writing her address and the date, she put it aside. What was the point in writing to him? He was no longer interested. Perhaps she ought to tick Jake off her list as well?
She had the feeling deep inside her that that was she ought to do. Their romance was over. He had made a life for himself in London and he hadn’t even mentioned her joining him in his brief letters. But that dreaded emptiness opened out before her again. Marriage was what every woman wanted, husband, children and a home to build to keep them safe and secure. There was stupid pride too. She would find it hard to tell people she was no longer engaged to marry Jake. Living at home with her mother while her youth slipped by was a dreary prospect. If only she had a career, something to fill her life. That was a way to compensate for marriage, a home and children, but she wondered if that would ever be enough.
She lay awake for hours after going to bed, tossing and turning, trying to visualize a future without the dream of marriage she had held for so long. All her childhood she had played games that prepared her for home making. In that dream there had only been Jake. At five o’clock she went down, pushed sticks in to the coals to revive the fire and made a cup of tea.
She was hardly the age to give up on life. Hanging on to a man who no longer loved her, afraid of there being nothing to replace what they had once had, was pathetic. She simply had to re-think what she wanted for her future, a future without Jake. It was time to make up her mind to forget Jake, tell him goodbye and face a future without him, or, that small voice whispered, or, she had to see him and find out if there was still something there, some faint shadow of their love that could be revived as she had revived the fire. Then she looked at the grate and saw that apart from a few thin columns of smoke the fire was out.
Dawn broke in a hazy silver mist and she wrapped up warmly and walked down the steep, twisting path to the lake. Beside the clear water had always been a place to sit and think. The boat in which they had regularly played imaginary journeys on the calm water, and had picnicked in favourite places on the shore, was still there. The timbers looked sound but pale, bleached by several summers. The rope which her father had attached to the raft he had made with the help of Uncle Sam, was gone and the raft was tilted to one side, the floats, made of metal barrels rusted; one was obviously leaking.
Despite the dereliction, this was a place holding nothing but happy memories. She smiled, listening to the sound of birdsong and the rustling of the wind in the grasses, Uncle Sam’s tractor in the distance, probably taking churns of the morning’s milk to the platform built at the edge of the road for collection. On the first warm Sunday she decided she would invite Nelda to bring the children and have a picnic there. Could Uncle Sam repair the raft, she wondered? It would be a safe introduction to the water for the girls. Sam, Neville and Greg dealt with it at once. Once mended, the raft was firmly attached to a new double rope, to each side of the lake, creating a pulley to move it across the lake.
Lottie had repeatedly searched all the papers in Ronald’s desk and had found nothing that would explain the loss of their money. She had given the shed a cursory search too but had found nothing apart from the usual receipts from household bills. Mabs agreed to help her go through everything one more time in case at the end of one of her searches tiredness had caused her concentration to fail and she had missed something of importance.
The shed was more of an office really, lined with board and with a shelf that acted as a desk, and a swivel chair. The garden tools and the various tins and bottles of weed-killer and plant food, bamboo canes and balls of string were in another building that had once been a chicken coop. The shelves of the fairly new shed were lined with boxes, some containing paid bills relating to work done on the house. Some were filled with business letters together with carbon copies of the replies.
Lottie and Mabs both read these before putting them back in the relevant boxes. There was nothing to raise a curious eyebrow. Many of the papers went back to the time they had bought the house soon after they were married.
Lottie sighed. ‘This is hopeless, Mabs. If Ronald had any secrets he hid them well.’
Mabs didn’t answer and Lottie turned to see that Mabs was under the shelf that had served as a desk. ‘Pass me a torch,’ Mabs demanded, and when she shone a light into a space close to the wall, she paused for a moment then gave a gasp. ‘Lottie, I think I’ve found something.’
She backed out, still holding the torch and with her hand full of small pieces of torn paper. She handed these to her sister-in-law. ‘One of the pieces is initialled RUM. Ronald Unwyn Martin.’
Lottie took the screwed-up pieces of paper and spread them out. ‘He used to joke about his initials, didn’t he? Convinced he should have been a sailor or a drunkard.’
Together they sat and examined the scraps of paper. ‘It looks like a bank statement of some kind.’ Lottie whispered, as though they were intruding on someone else’s privacy.
‘Yes,’ Mabs replied, also whispering, ‘But unfortunately, there’s no clue to which bank it is.’
‘There aren’t that many. It’s bound to be a local one. We’ll have to ask in them all.’
Without looking at her, Mabs asked, ‘Lottie, are you sure you want to know?’
‘What d’you mean? Of course I want to know why he left me in debt.’
‘There’s nothing you’ve done to make Ronald give the money away?’
With an impatient sigh, Lottie whispered, ‘Mabs, we’ll go together, you and I. If there are secrets to learn, then you will find out the moment that I do. Is that enough for you? Does that stop you mistrusting me?’
‘Sorry.’
They tried without success to join some of the pieces but all they had were unconnected pieces of what must have been several pages. A few had what was obviously part-columns of money set out ready for totalling; pounds, shillings and pence, in one instance it appeared to be several hundred pounds. Ronald’s handwriting appeared on two pieces, illegible words, and his signature, written across a postage stamp which was obviously a receipt for a payment.
‘What can we do?’ Mabs asked, still whispering.
‘We can take this to the solicitor and ask him to investigate, or to the police. Or we can ask questions ourselves and hope to find out what happened.’
‘I think we should do nothing for a few days, just wait to see if something else turns up to add to what we know.’
‘We don’t know much, do we?’ Lottie said sadly.
‘Maybe more than we did an hour ago.’
Roy Roberts set off for the bus stop with Doris’s son, Kevin. ‘Why don’t you let Mam do your shopping, stubborn old devil that you are?’ Kevin pleaded. ‘She could have your delivery same day as ours, she works in town and could easily bring up bits and pieces when you need them.’
‘I’d rather do my own, Kevin. I don’t want the neighbourhood knowing what I have for dinner,’ he joked.
‘Going into town is dangerous for someone as decrepit as you, Popeye.’
Roy Roberts laughed. ‘What shift are you on today?’
‘Six this evening till two. I hate that shift. I can’t go out in case I’m not back in time and I sleep late the following day and waste the morning.’
‘It messes up your love life, no doubt.’
‘I manage,’ Kevin said with a chuckle. ‘I do miss Rose Conelly though. She was good company and as long as I kept off the serious things, like courting and engagement, she was happy.’
‘I thought she was serious about Greg Martin?’
‘So did he!’
‘She’s in London, keeping company with Jake Williams, so I hear.’
‘Considering how rarely you go out, you hear a lot, Popeye.’
The bus arrived and Kevin helped Roy Roberts to board.
Roy was relieved that Kevin hadn’t insisted on coming with him, he needed privacy to visit his solicitor.
The appointment was for eleven o’clock and he made his way slowly to the offices and, to his dismay, Mabs saw him going in. She called to him.
‘What d’you want a solicitor for, Roy Roberts? Been a naughty boy, have we?’ she teased.
‘I’m changing my will and leaving everything to you,’ he replied, ‘and if you don’t mind your own business you’ll lose the lot.’
Mabs waved and walked on. She was briefly curious but soon forgot seeing him.
Roy didn’t want to discuss a will. He handed Mr Philips a file containing papers referring to some shares he owned. It was time to sell them. Time was passing and old age might prevent him doing what had to be done if he waited for too long. It took less than an hour to deal with his requests.
Buses were difficult for him so he took a taxi and went to Mabs’s flat and sat on the outside and waited for her. She waved as she came around the corner and he stood stiffly to greet her. ‘How about a cup of tea?’ he asked.
She patted a paper bag in her basket. ‘I must have known you were coming, Roy Roberts, I bought two custard slices.’
‘How far have you got with the mystery of the missing money?’ he asked, when they sat with tea and cakes before them.
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘I’ve known Ronald since we were children. I’m curious to know how someone as mean and careful as Ronald could be so careless. Poor Lottie, she must be devastated.’
‘What d’you mean, mean? And what d’you mean careless? Ronald would never be careless with money. And he wasn’t mean! No, too generous more like.’
‘Gambling maybe? Gambling can get a hold of you.’
‘Not my brother! Someone cheated him out of it.’
Roy shrugged, decided not to say more. ‘Are there any biscuits to go with a second cup of tea, Mabs?’ She nodded thoughtfully then went to the kitchen to bring the biscuit tin with its design of wild flowers, and opened it. They finished eating and drinking in silence, smiling at each other occasionally.
‘Thanks, Mabsy,’ he said, as he was leaving. ‘I’ll bring the biscuits next time.’
‘Was there any special reason for the visit, Roy?’
‘Not really, just a catch up with a friend.’
Lottie looked at the bank statement that she had just received and gave a deep sigh. The debt had hardly changed. It was going to take a long time before it was paid. She put the statement in the file where she kept the outgoings and set off for work.
She was grateful to have the job. Selling office equipment wasn’t a very exciting way to spend her days and when things were quiet she was utterly bored, but at least it was giving her a chance of eventually clearing her debt. She avoided working out how many years it would take at her present rate of pay.
She opened up and looked through the orders. Only three, they wouldn’t take long and then she would sit and wait for a customer either calling in or phoning their requirements. She wished she had learned to knit. At least there would have been something to do while she sat waiting.
At lunchtime as she was closing the door, her boss Mr Lucas arrived and he gestured for her to go back inside. ‘Mrs Martin – er – Lottie. I have something to tell you and you aren’t going to like it.’
‘Is there a problem? How can I help?’ she asked with a smile.
‘To come straight to the point, the business is closing. I’m very sorry.’
The smile on Lottie’s face slowly faltered. ‘You don’t mean I’ll lose my job? But I depend on it and if it means extra hours or adding something to my duties, I’ll agree willingly, you know that.’
‘Sorry, but there’s nothing you can do. The business has been failing for some time and now it hardly makes enough for your wages.’
‘I’ll distribute some letters advertising the services we offer. There must be customers out there? Every firm needs something of what we supply. We can build it up again.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m too old to fight my way back. I think the failure is due mainly due to my lack of enthusiasm. I haven’t been calling on customers as I should; collecting monies, obtaining orders and making courtesy visits to customers when their orders are smaller than usual.’
Lottie was staring at him, no longer hearing the words, her mind racing with the implications, in shock and disbelief.
Seeing the distant expression on her face he coughed to make sure she was listening before saying, ‘I am going to retire. So, at the end of the month I will pay you all I owe including holidays and a little extra, and the shop will close.’
Lottie muttered all the polite expressions of sympathy and assured him she would be ‘just fine’ then stood in the silent shop for a long time, trying to think of what she should do. Then there were moments of anger towards Ronald. How could he have let them down so badly? The simple answer was to sell the house and use the little remaining money to rent a small place, just large enough for herself and Zena and Greg. But that wouldn’t work, they would still need a house the size of the one they had. The outgoings would be practically the same, too. But what else could she do?
Belatedly closing for lunch, Lottie didn’t go home. She went to see Mabs. Mabs listened then gave a hoot of laughter. ‘Cheer up, Lottie, you’ve reached rock bottom! With this on top of everything else there’s only way to go and that’s up! Now then, get yourself another job. That’s the first thing.’
‘You make it sound so easy,’ Lottie said tearfully.
Zena was planning a change, but not one forced on her as Lottie’s had been. Instead of looking for clients to fill the mornings she had worked for Janey Day, she decided to give notice to some of the others. She would continue to work for Mr Roberts and Nelda and look for another way of earning money for the rest of the time. She cycled home, her mind buzzing with possibilities. It was an exciting time; the world was hers from which she could choose a new beginning. The only possibility she did not consider was Jake, and London.
Sam called at Llyn Hir that evening with some butter made on the farm. Lottie was grateful but Sam could see at once that something was wrong. Quite at home in the house he had known for many years, he went into the kitchen, put the butter in the cold store and made a pot of tea. He set a tray, added the biscuit barrel and sat facing her. ‘Now, tell me what happened today to upset you?’
‘I’ve lost my job.’
‘Why?’
‘The business is failing and the shop is closing at the end of the month.’
‘Has it been sold?’
‘No, the stationery business is just closing down. Oh, Sam, what can I do? There’s the debt Ronald left me with, which even with the wages I earned would have taken for ever to clear. Without a job I have no alternative, I’ll have to sell the house.’
‘What went wrong with the business, trouble with deliveries? I doubt if there were errors, not with you running the place, Kay.’
‘Kay?’ She laughed. ‘You’re the only one to call me that, now Ronald has gone.’
‘So what went wrong?’
‘I think Mr Lucas let things slide a little. Customers would ring me up and ask why he hadn’t called as promised. Orders didn’t reach the shop for me to deal with deliveries. Only small errors but there were too many. It’s pointless to wonder why. It’s happened and I’m out of a job.’
‘If the business were yours, what changes would you make to get it on its feet again?’
‘I would concentrate on advertising to bring more customers. And I would make sure every customer had the best of attention so they would use us again and, most importantly, recommend us to others. Word of mouth is still the best way to make a business grow. I would also increase the items we stock, make more use of the unused space we have. I would leave piles of orders and invoices cluttering the desk, even if they’re out of date. It increases confidence to see the place busy.’
‘Why don’t you buy the business?’
‘Oh yes. I’ll magic the money out of the air, like rabbits from a conjurer’s hat, shall I?’
‘If you really want something, a way will be found. Just don’t dismiss the idea before considering it. Right?’ She stared at him and he began to laugh. ‘Honestly, Kay, you’re looking at me as though I’d made an improper suggestion!’
Lottie talked to Mabs later that day. ‘Come and have tea with us on Sunday, I’ve got corned beef pasties and there’re some scones with fresh farm butter to spread on them,’ she coaxed.
‘And there’s something you want to tell me?’ Mabs asked, tilting her head to one side questioningly. ‘Come on, I can’t wait until tomorrow. Have you discovered anything about Ronald?’
‘No, it was something Sam said. I told him the shop was closing and I was losing my job and he suggested that I buy the business. It’s impossible, of course, but if I hadn’t been left with this debt, maybe I’d have tried.’
‘Talk to Zena why don’t you? She hasn’t a job either, so maybe you can work something out between you.’
‘Where does the money come from? No, it’s a lovely dream but that’s all.’
‘Talk to Zena!’
Rose was aware that Jake was including her more and more in his life and she began to feel the usual anxiety about a friend becoming too close. Without telling Jake or Madeleine she applied for a position in a very smart shoe shop. With her increased confidence and better clothes sense, she was given the position which came with a generous increase in salary. Talking to the other sales girls before she took up the post, and explaining that she was looking for accommodation, she was offered a share in a house with three other people, one of whom was a young man. It was west of London but with good routes into the city. Only then did she tell Madeleine of her new arrangements, but, promising to keep in touch, she avoided giving her the new address. She walked away knowing that once more she was without a friend.
It would always be like this, she thought sadly as she unpacked her small suitcase and boxes, and spread her few dismal belongings around the room to make a pretence of it being her home.
Jake was angry at her disappearance without a word. They had befriended her, coaxed her out to places she might not have seen on her own and she was treating them like the enemy! He told Madeleine he wouldn’t try to find her.
‘I have no interest in her problems – which, on her past behaviour, were probably invented, anyway. We’ve tried to help her: there’s no justification for her to leave without a word.’
Madeleine smiled. Putting them in a room together might be fun.
Rose lay on her bed, listening to the other house-mates laughing and talking, knowing she was utterly alone. To feel the temptations of a love affair and have to walk away was becoming more difficult. Although it was not for Jake she grieved, it was still Greg. If only she had had a normal childhood, how simple life would have been.
Exploring the area was fun, finding shops and concert halls, exhibitions, theatres and cinemas, and a small, friendly café where she ate most evenings. But she was aware again of the lack of someone to share her pleasures. Going to the pictures and not having a friend to discuss it with on the way home gave her that familiar hollow feeling. After a month she went to see Madeleine.
When she knocked on the door, Madeleine came out and hugged her, squealing with delight. ‘Come in! Why haven’t you been in touch? I insist on you giving me your new address.’
Rose hesitated. ‘Before I do, will you promise not to tell Jake you’ve seen me?’
Madeleine pushed her into the living room. ‘It’s too late, dear. Jake, look who’s here!’
Before she could protest, Jake leapt out of the armchair and hugged her, kissed her cheek and demanded to know where she had been. ‘We’ve missed you, haven’t we, Madeleine?’
‘I – er – I’ve been busy settling in,’ she said, flustered by the disappointment of seeing him.
Madeleine went to make tea and Jake patted the seat beside him. ‘Come on, then. Where are you working, another shoe shop?’
‘Yes, it’s another shoe shop.’ She hesitated, unwilling to tell him more.
‘We went to the flat several times but no one knew where you’d gone. A letter was there for you and Madeleine opened it in case it was important. It was from Greg, telling you he missed you and would like you to get in touch.’
‘There was a P S, it said “no strings”,’ added Madeleine coming in with a tray of tea and cakes.
‘Greg and I – that was a long time ago. It’s definitely over, best he forgets me.’
‘No one could forget you, Rosie. I don’t want you to go away again without telling us. Promise? We won’t tell Greg where to find you, if that’s what you wish.’
Rose relaxed and, trusting him to keep his word, began to amuse them with stories about the people in the shared house and some of the customers she served in the smart shoe shop where she now worked.
They arranged to meet for the pictures later that week and Rose left them, content that the friendships were safe from any problems and she was no longer alone. Jake and Madeleine behaved like close friends; arms in arm, heads together She was reassured by their closeness. Jake was not seriously interested in her.
Jake phoned Llyn Hir one evening and Greg answered. He told Jake he had no idea where Zena had gone. ‘She goes out a lot more than she used to,’ he explained. ‘And I’m glad she does. There’s no point in her sitting here night after night waiting for a letter or a phone call from you!’
‘I’m thinking of coming down next weekend.’
‘A visit from you? Never! That’s something she’s given up expecting. What are you doing in London? A grotty room in a grotty street and a job that’s far less glamorous than the one you lied to her about.’ He didn’t hide his anger and Jake was silent for a moment.
‘The truth is—’ As his excuses were about to begin, Greg put down the phone.
‘He called this evening,’ he told Zena when she got back from a visit to Nelda. ‘Probably hoping to get me on his side, but I didn’t listen.’
‘I’m glad I was out,’ Zena admitted. ‘We need to talk face to face to end it properly.’
‘He said he’s thinking of coming down next weekend. How d’you feel about that?’
‘Tempted to run away! But it’s time this was sorted, so I’d better stay.’
‘He only said he was thinking of coming, not a definite plan.’
‘I suppose it depends whether Madeleine or Rose have something better to offer!’
‘Tell him goodbye, Sis. You’re worth better.’
Jake went home the following weekend and although he breezed in as he normally did, as though he had been away a few hours, instead of not having contacted Zena in weeks, he was shocked when Zena didn’t return his smile.
‘What’s up, love? Don’t tell me there’s more bad news. Aunty Mabs is all right, isn’t she?’
‘We’re all fine, Jake, and well used to managing without you in our lives.’
‘What d’you mean? Out of your life? I never want to be out of your life. This family is all I want in the whole world.’
‘Sorry Jake, but I want you to go back to London and not come here again.’
‘I can’t do that! We’re engaged, we’re getting married just as soon as I have enough money and a better job. And’ – he went on as she was about to interrupt – ‘it’s good news, love. I’ve been promoted and I really am on the sales team now.’
‘It’s too late. It’s over and I am going to start a new life, without wondering where you are, who you’re with and when you will come home, or write, or even use the telephone.’
‘Come out with me, we’ll go for a meal and talk about it.’
‘No Jake. I want you to go. Now.’
She walked to the door, opened it and stood there until he left. He was still talking, trying to convince her she was wrong, that he loved her and just wasn’t any good at writing letters. She closed the door while he was still talking and ran to her room. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.
Her mother came soon after Jake had gone and called up to her. ‘Zena, are you there? I’ve got something to tell you. I need your advice, dear.’
Zena went downstairs a wide smile stretching her mouth but not reaching her eyes. ‘Mam, Jake was here and I’ve told him we’re finished. I don’t want to see him again, and – and …’ Then she cried.
It was some time and several cups of tea later before Lottie talked to her about Sam’s suggestion. ‘Of course I can’t take on the business, much as I’d love to. There would be extra debt and I’m frantic enough about the one I already have. Adding to it would be the makings of disaster. But it was a wonderful dream for a while. I’ve been sitting in Mabs’s flat working out how I would increase the business and I could see a successful future, but it’s no use. There isn’t the remotest chance of me finding the money.’
‘How much would you need?’
Lottie stared up at the ceiling as if she were mapping her costings on its blank surface. ‘I’d have to buy the stock and pay for the business to be transferred, and then there would be the monthly rent.’ She gave an irritable shrug. ‘I can’t do it and I don’t know why I am even thinking about it. There is a very slight hope, if I can accept it: Aunty Mabs has offered to join me as a silent partner. Is that possible, do think?’
‘I have a better idea.’ Zena’s face became animated, grief for the end of her plans with Jake momentarily eased. ‘What if I came as an active partner? I have the savings for a wedding that isn’t going to happen, and rent from the flat every month, we can use that and cope until the business starts giving us a wage.’
‘No, dear, I can’t accept your money. You and Jake – you’ve dreamed of marrying him for so long, it might not be over – and I’d hate for you to do something you’d regret.’
‘Mam, it really is over. It wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare and I’m free of it. I’ve been an idiot, putting up with his lies and, really, he abandoned me, didn’t he? How many times do I have to forgive him for his dishonesty, and for always putting me last? I’ve been crazy to accept how he’s behaved—getting a job and moving to London without discussing it and continually lying ever since.’
‘I can’t take your money, but I’m so thrilled that you’re offering it. Keep it until you know what you want to do.’
‘Ten minutes ago I had no idea where my life was going, but now I do’ She was laughing in her excitement. ‘I’ve worked in an office since I left school so I understand running an office. I’ve always thought the shop didn’t stock enough of the day-to-day requirements of local needs. Also, I have good typing and shorthand skills. We could advertise my services for letters, applications for jobs, instruction leaflets, work for schools and colleges, and many other things. And what if we contact a printer and make a financial arrangement to benefit us both? We could do programmes for local events, all sorts of things.’
Lottie began to laugh. ‘Zena, you are wonderful. I don’t think we could possibly fail.’
‘We’ll do it?’
‘Yes, my darling girl, let’s do it!’ She went to the telephone and spoke to Mr Lucas for a long time, then turned to her daughter, thumbs up. ‘Mr Lucas has agreed to rent us the property!’ Putting down the phone she said, ‘Firstly we need to make an appointment with the solicitor. Then we’ll go and tell Mabs.’
Greg was surprised, then very pleased at the decision involving both his mother and sister and offered to help. The three of them went to look over the property they were about to rent, all excitedly suggesting ideas for rearranging the shelves and making lists of ideas, including people to inform, and new lines to stock. They all went to bed early, completely exhausted.
Jake called the next day but there was no one at home. He sat on the cold-frame where cucumbers were grown during the summer, pulling out weeds, and practising what he would say when Zena returned. As darkness fell he gave up and went to his lodgings.
Zena, Greg, Lottie and Mabs were in a rather expensive restaurant celebrating the promise of an exciting, new life.
The next morning, before leaving for London, Jake called again, but although their voices could be heard talking and laughing, and he was convinced they knew he was there, no one answered his knock. He hung around until realizing he was likely to miss his train. Out of pique, he took Greg’s bicycle and got there with seconds to spare. He left the cycle outside the ticket office.