‘I told you,’ my mother said when Sol took me to visit her the next week. ‘This Gwendoline … she wants something, Emma. She wouldn’t have written unless she had good reason.’
‘You can’t know that, Mum,’ I said, breaking a piece of her special fatless sponge and feeding it to James. ‘She might just want to know me. She is Father’s sister – and her mother is my grandmother. I think I might like to know more about them.’
‘You’re not thinking of visiting them, Emma?’
‘I’ve told her I can’t, not for the moment. I just haven’t got time – and nor has Sol. We’ve only come today because there was a small fire at the factory. Sol was worried. He wanted to assess the damage for himself. I think some bales of material may have been spoiled. He has to account for every little thing these days. The government inspectors are so strict. It makes lots more paperwork for Sol.’
‘Well, why don’t you help him out, Emma? You kept the accounts for your father for years.’
‘I would if Sol would let me,’ I said. ‘But I don’t have much time to spare myself, Mum.’
I had never told her anything about the financial side of Sol’s business. She might have frowned over some of his methods, though to be honest she wasn’t above a little trading on the black market herself. We never visited without taking back bacon, eggs and a slab of fresh farm butter, none of which had ever seen a Food Ministry stamp! So although she could not exactly hold the moral high ground, I kept my silence. Whatever Sol chose to do was not my business.
I knew that he would never rob or harm anyone. His behaviour could be called unpatriotic, and was perhaps a little shady at times, but he was not a bad man. I was very fond of him, and still grateful for all the kindness he had shown me.
Sol was my friend. Those weeks of dreadful bombing, when we had all sheltered together, never knowing if that night would be our last, had formed a special bond between us. I would stand by him no matter what.
‘Have you heard about Sheila’s husband?’ Mother asked, bringing me abruptly from my reverie. ‘He was rushed into hospital the night before last.’
‘Oh, no!’ I cried, looking at her in alarm. ‘I haven’t heard from Sheila for a few weeks. I was going to ask if I could leave James with you and pop along to see her?’
‘Of course I’ll have James. I don’t see enough of him.’
‘You could come and stay for a few days, Mum. Margaret would be pleased to see you.’
‘Perhaps I shall one day,’ she said, surprising me. ‘Bert wouldn’t mind. He has suggested it more than once.’
‘Then come,’ I said. ‘I would love you to. And now, I shall go to see Sheila. She must be worried to death, with the shop to see to and a young baby …’
Sheila was serving a customer when I arrived. She looked as if she hadn’t slept all night, her eyes shadowed and her nose red from crying.
‘Oh, Emma,’ she said as soon as her customer had left. ‘I’m so glad to see you. Eric is in hospital. They’ve told me … he may have consumption.’
‘Sheila, I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘That’s terrible. You must be so worried about him, and you were getting on so nicely. Is there anything I can do? How will you manage?’
‘My cousin Alice has offered to come and stay, so she will look after the baby. I can just about manage the shop alone if I have to.’ She gave me an anxious look. ‘I don’t want to give it up, Emma. This shop was a chance for us to make something of our lives.’
‘Why should you give up? If your cousin helps you, you can manage. It’s going to be hard work, but there must be a young boy or girl who could come in on a Saturday – and perhaps after school. You could ask around or put a card in the window.’
‘Yes, that’s what I thought.’ She bit her lip. ‘I had to pay some bills this week, Emma. Eric hadn’t been well and he had let them mount up. It means I’m short in the rent … I can make it up next week, though.’
‘How much are you short?’
‘Ten shillings …’
I opened my bag and gave her a pound note. ‘Give the rent to Mr Smythe as usual. You can pay Mum the ten shillings when you’ve got it to spare, the other is a present for the baby. And you don’t have to pay Mum the money next week. You might need money for visiting the hospital. If you need anything, Sheila, let me know. I’ll do whatever I can to help.’
Her eyes were moist with tears. ‘You’ve always been a good friend to me, Emma.’ She caught back a sob. ‘I don’t know what I shall do if anything happens to Eric.’
‘Nothing will happen,’ I said. ‘He may have to go away to a sanatorium, though. It might mean you won’t be able to see him very often.’
‘Yes …’ She nodded, looking thoughtful. ‘The doctor said they might send him to a special place near the sea. The air would be better for him there.’
‘Let’s hope it’s just his bronchitis,’ I said. ‘I’ll say a prayer for all of you, Sheila.’
She smiled and thanked me. Another customer came in then, and I left her after promising to write.
I visited Madge Henty next. Madge had heard about Sheila’s husband and promised to keep an eye out for her. We talked about the business, which was ticking over nicely. We were too small to be bothered much by all the new regulations, though of course we had to adhere to them.
‘They won’t bother me much,’ Madge said. ‘I reckon they’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’ve heard it said there’s been some terrible rackets going on. Some folk should be ashamed of themselves!’
‘You mean some firms were making excessive profits out of government contracts? And overcharging for goods, yes, I know. It does go on. I’ve seen it in London shops.’ She nodded, making a tutting noise. ‘I think that’s part of the reason for the clampdown, Madge. We all have to account for every penny now.’
‘There’s ways and means,’ Madge said. ‘I read about a load of meat that was supposed to have been contaminated by a flood in a basement store. It was all nonsense. They were selling it out the back door the next morning.’
‘Well, I’m sure they will be caught,’ I said. ‘Some people will get away with things for a while, but in the end they will find themselves in trouble.’
‘They deserve it,’ Madge said, looking cross. ‘I’ve always been honest, Emma. I don’t hold with racketeering.’
‘It isn’t right,’ I agreed. ‘Not when everyone is having to cut down – but people do things, Madge. It’s human nature to get away with a bit here and there if you can.’
She nodded, then laughed. ‘Well, I must admit I wouldn’t say no to a packet of sugar under the counter! And I wouldn’t mind if it did cost me a bit extra. I can’t do without my sugar.’
‘There you are then.’
We laughed, had a cup of tea, and then I walked back to my mother’s house. I was a little anxious as I thought about the fire at the factory. Surely it was genuine? Sol wouldn’t try to make extra profit by pretending material had been ruined … would he?
No, of course he wouldn’t! I dismissed the idea as unworthy and forgot about it.
It was the following Saturday evening. A dance was in progress in the next room, and I was busy preparing the Spam sandwiches and jugs of orange squash we were offering as refreshments that evening. We were also fortunate in having tinned fruit salad, which had been donated to us by an American benefactor.
‘Two cases of it arrived this morning,’ Pamela Marsh told me. ‘They came off an American ship so I’ve been told – and our name was on the label. Fancy that, Emma. All the way from America, and specially for us.’
I looked at the woman who was sharing the evening shift with me.
‘That can’t be right,’ I said. ‘The consignment must have come from America, and then someone in authority here decided we should be given a share.’
‘Yes, I expect you’re right,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose anyone in America even knows our little organisation exists.’
‘Why should they?’
She nodded in agreement, and we carried on spreading the mixture of margarine and butter very thinly on the bread.
‘Do you think we’ve done enough?’ she asked after a while. ‘Only, I’ve run out of Spam. It means opening another tin.’
‘We’ll take these through and see what happens. We can make some more if they get eaten. But once we put the tinned fruit out, everyone will leave the Spam – at least, they will if they are as bored with it as we are.’
Pamela laughed and agreed. ‘It does get you down a bit, but it beats the whale meat I had at Lyons the other day. I’ve never tasted anything so awful, Emma. It was like eating old boots. I think I would rather go hungry!’
We picked up our trays of sandwiches. Some were with mustard or brown sauce to make them more interesting. Others had a slice of pickled onion on top of the meat. We did our best with the supplies we were given, much of it donated by friends, people who had managed to scrounge a little extra food from somewhere and wanted to share it with the brave men who were doing so much for us.
The music had stopped for a while when we carried in the refreshments. The quartet had gone off for a welcome cup of tea, and the various soldiers, sailors and airmen were talking to the girls they had met that evening. Most of the men came alone. It was to help newcomers find friends that our social club had been set up, and it was proving popular.
We held dances each Saturday. In the week there were concerts or social evenings. We had dart boards, table tennis and a pool table in the adjoining room. It was somewhere for the men to come, and there were always a few single girls to keep them company.
‘Hi …’ The deep voice behind me made me jump. I gave a cry of surprise as I turned to see Jack Harvey. He was dressed in a smart grey business suit, which looked somehow out of place in the dance hall. ‘Sol told me I might find you here this evening. I see you got the tinned fruit all right.’
‘Did you send us that?’ He nodded. ‘That was thoughtful of you, Mr Harvey.’
‘Sol thought it might come in useful.’
‘Is that what you’ve been doing all these months? Arranging to send us things we need?’
‘Something like that,’ he replied with a grin. ‘We can’t have our British cousins starving, can we?’
‘At least your ship got through,’ I said. ‘A lot of ours are being attacked and sunk now.’
‘Unfortunate, but I shouldn’t worry too much. They can’t get them all, and my ships sail under the American flag. This is a private venture, nothing to do with government. Besides, we aren’t at war with Germany yet.’
‘No, you aren’t, are you?’
He frowned, a glint of annoyance in his eyes. ‘Does that mean you think we ought to be?’
‘Perhaps …’ I shook my head. ‘No, I won’t get into an argument with you over it, Jack. I’m grateful for what you sent us – and it’s nice to see you again.’
His eyes were suddenly bright with laughter. ‘Does this mean I can call you Emma now? Have I been promoted to the rank of friend?’
‘Well, I think you might be,’ I said. ‘Especially if I can scrounge some more food for our men when your next ship comes in, Jack – or even now if there’s any going spare.’
‘I like the way you do business,’ he said. ‘Sol told me you were more than just a pretty face.’
‘Oh did he,’ I said, frowning at him. ‘I’m not sure I like that. Why were you discussing me at all?’
‘Now don’t get touchy,’ Jack said, and grinned in a way that disarmed me. ‘I just happened to ask Sol how he came to know you, that’s all. I was curious about you.’
‘You could have asked me what you wanted to know.’
‘Could I?’ His brows rose. ‘I wasn’t sure you would welcome my interest.’
‘I didn’t know you,’ I said. ‘I am only just beginning to know you now.’
‘But you would like to know me better?’
‘I didn’t say that …’ I laughed as I saw his expression. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Jack. You know I’m married … happily married.’
‘But I can be your friend?’ He was serious now. ‘I would like that, Emma. I do have some influence in this country. I’ve been useful to your government in various ways, and there are people who owe me a few favours. If there’s anything I can do … pull a few strings or wangle something for you …’
‘Get thee behind me Satan!’ I said, shaking my head at him. ‘Thank you for the offer, Jack, but I don’t need that kind of a favour, at least not for myself – any donations of food to the club are always welcome, of course.’
‘Got you,’ Jack said. He arched his brows as the musicians began to play again. ‘Any chance of you dancing with me?’
‘Well … I don’t see why not …’
I was on the verge of saying yes when Pamela came hurrying towards me. Something in her manner told me that she had bad news and I felt a shiver go down my spine.
‘What’s wrong, Pam?’
‘Mr Gould telephoned,’ she said. ‘You have to go home, Emma. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, but he said to send you home immediately.’
I felt the room spin round me, and I must have gone white because Jack caught my arm as I swayed. I blinked, then took a deep breath as my vision cleared. ‘I’ll get my coat …’ I turned and looked at the man still gripping my arm. ‘Jack … will you take me home?’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I have my car outside. Don’t worry, Emma. It’s probably nothing.’
‘No …’ I took a deep breath. ‘Sol wouldn’t have rung me if it wasn’t urgent.’
My heart was racing as I fetched my coat. I tried to apologize to Pamela for leaving her with all the washing up, but she told me not to worry.
‘What I can’t manage, I’ll leave for the morning shift,’ she assured me. ‘I hope it isn’t too bad, Emma.’
I nodded but couldn’t bring myself to speak. I knew instinctively that it was something that would change my life …
‘I’m so sorry, Emma,’ Margaret said as she handed me the telegram. ‘It came an hour ago. I waited until Sol got home … Jon’s plane was shot down over France last night. They don’t know whether he got out in time or not …’
‘Jon …’ I gasped, feeling as if I had been punched in the stomach. ‘Jon’s plane … went down over France …’
I swayed and might have fallen if Jack Harvey had not been there to catch my arm. He steadied me, then led me to a chair and made me sit down. I sat forward, my face in my hands as I tried to take in what Margaret was saying. My husband’s plane had been shot down. It was my worst nightmare, the one thing I had never allowed myself to think about.
‘Breathe deeply,’ a voice was saying. ‘You’ll be better in a minute.’
‘How can I be better?’ I cried, lifting my head to glare at Jack Harvey accusingly. ‘I shall never be better – my husband …’ I choked on the words as the sob broke from me and then the tears coursed down my cheeks. ‘Jon … my darling Jon …’
I couldn’t believe that I would never see him again, never feel his touch or have him hold me close. He had given me so much love, and our time together had been so brief. He was a kind, gentle man who hated this war, and he didn’t deserve to die this way. The pain was unbearable, overwhelming. I wanted to die, because life without Jon would be so empty.
‘He’s missing, Emma,’ Sol’s voice came to me through the pain. ‘You don’t know that he was killed. He may have got out … I rang a friend of mine at the War Office and asked for more details. He told me one parachute was seen after the plane was hit … it could have been Jon … he may be alive.’
‘Only one …’ I choked. ‘That means the rest of the crew …’
‘Stop it, Emma!’ Jack Harvey said sharply. ‘Stop that right now. Your husband is missing. You can’t change that, but it doesn’t mean you have to stop hoping.’
‘No … it doesn’t mean I have to stop hoping.’ He had got through to me somehow. I looked at him eagerly, then at Sol and Margaret. ‘Jon is missing in action – that doesn’t mean he is dead, does it? He could have got out, even if no one saw him …’
‘I shouldn’t let yourself hope too much, dearest,’ Margaret warned softly. Her eyes were sad, filled with love. ‘But you don’t have to give up just yet.’
‘What will happen?’ I asked. ‘If he is alive and in France …’
‘Someone may be able to get him out, or at least hide him,’ Sol said. ‘It is happening all the time, Emma. Just because the Germans have taken over the country, it doesn’t mean all the French have surrendered. I happen to know that there is a strong resistance going on there.’
‘Then Jon could come home?’
I looked at their faces, and I knew that not one of them really believed it. But I was going to cling to that hope. I couldn’t give up on Jon. Only if I carried that hope in my breast would he have a chance of coming back to me. It was a foolish superstition, but I had to hold on to it. I had to believe that one day Jon would return to claim me.
I stood up, lifting my head, facing them proudly. The shock had made me weak, but I was strong now. I had been hurt before. I had faced despair and grief and come through it, and I would this time. I refused to believe that Jon was dead. He couldn’t be, mustn’t be, because I needed him so much.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m going upstairs. I need to be alone.’
No one spoke. I was conscious of them all watching me as I went out of the room. They all believed Jon was dead, but I couldn’t. To accept that he was gone for ever would be unbearable.
I didn’t cry as I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. I just thought about Jon, about the wonderful times we had spent together, so few of them I could almost count them on my fingers.
‘Come back to me, Jon,’ I whispered into the darkness. ‘Please come back to me, my darling. I love you … need you … so much.’
I tried not to think of what might be happening in France. What did German patrols do if they found an airman who had been shot down? Would they arrest him … put him in a camp for prisoners of war? Or would they shoot him down where he stood? No, surely not – not if he surrendered without a fight.
Jon wouldn’t try to fight. I believed that he would surrender and wait out the war in … wherever they sent him. Perhaps to a camp in Germany. I felt chilled as I thought of my beloved husband being shut away for months or even years. Who knew how long this wretched war would go on?
Perhaps he would be found by the French resistance. Perhaps someone would hide him, and he might be able to get home somehow. Was it possible? Sol said it had happened, was happening … but he might have said that to comfort me, because he had known I couldn’t bear my loss.
Jon might be dead … or injured. I curled up in a ball as the pain struck inside me. It was almost worse to think of him badly injured than dead. The misery was like a tight, hard stone in my guts. I felt as if I were dying of some dreadful disease, as if my body were being stuck with hot needles.
Jon must feel so lost, so alone. If he was alive … but I had to believe it had been his parachute another pilot had reported having seen. I had to believe it!
Would the War Ministry know if the Germans had taken him prisoner? Did they get lists of men held in camps? Could someone find out for me?
Jack Harvey had hinted that he could pull all kinds of strings. Perhaps in time … weeks or months … he might be able to find out something for me.
‘Oh, Jon my darling,’ I whispered over and over again as a prayer. ‘Live! Live for me, my love. Come home to me. I want you to come home.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ Mrs Reece sobbed into her handkerchief. ‘I can’t believe our Jon is dead … it isn’t fair. He never wanted this war. Why him? Why my son?’
‘Now then, Dorothy, stop that, my dear.’ Pops laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘You know what Emma said just now. We don’t know for certain that Jon is dead. They think at least one man parachuted out; it could have been Jon.’
She shook her head, looking at me with her sad eyes. ‘Emma wanted to give us hope,’ she said, dabbing a lace handkerchief to her cheeks. ‘But I know Jon is dead. I’ve felt something bad was going to happen for weeks now. I know …’
‘You can’t know,’ I said. I was irritated by her weeping. She was giving up too soon. I wanted to shout at her, but I would never forgive myself if I did. ‘I shan’t give up hoping. I’m going to ask a friend of mine to make inquiries. If Jon has been arrested by the Germans …’ I paused as she gave a shriek of alarm. ‘Yes, I know. I know – but it’s better than him being dead. If he is a prisoner he will survive. I know Jon. He will keep his head down and do whatever he has to …’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ Pops said, looking at me keenly. ‘If Jon were to be taken prisoner, he would survive. He would accept what had happened and do what he had to until the war ends.’
‘And when will that be?’ Mrs Reece asked bitterly. ‘From what I can see of things we’ll be at war for years … until they finally grind us to our knees and we have to surrender. Why they had to start this terrible war in the first place I don’t know. I don’t understand what it is all about. I don’t know why we have to suffer like this …’
‘The government didn’t have a choice,’ Pops said, shaking his head at me from behind his daughter’s back. ‘You mustn’t be a defeatist, Dorothy. I know things look black just now, and it may take us years – but we’re going to win.’
‘Yes, we’ll win,’ I said, lifting my head to look at him, smiling in spite of the pain in my heart. ‘We’ll win and Jon will come home. I know it – I feel it …’
‘You are so calm,’ Mrs Reece said, a flash of anger in her eyes as she looked at me. ‘I don’t know how you can take this so calmly, Emma. But of course, you have so much more in your life. Jon was all I had …’
‘Now that’s not fair,’ Pops said, and he gave her a stern look. ‘Emma is doing what she has to do, just as we shall. I think you should apologize to her, Dorothy.’
For a moment I thought she would refuse, then she went pink and dropped her gaze, looking at her hands as she twisted them in her lap.
‘I’m sorry, Emma. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you are upset – of course you are.’
‘It’s breaking my heart,’ I said. ‘But I’m not going to give up on Jon, Mrs Reece. If I do that he won’t come home …’
She lifted her head and looked me in the eyes, then nodded. ‘You are right,’ she said. ‘We have to keep him alive in our hearts … whether he comes back or not.’
I got up and went to kiss her.
‘He will come back,’ I said. ‘I promise you, Mother – he will come back to us.’
‘I had to come up,’ my mother said, as she embraced me. She was crying, trembling as she held me close. ‘I couldn’t bear to think of you facing this alone … my poor Emma. You’ve had so little time with him. And you were so happy. It just isn’t fair …’
‘What we had was worth fifty years of the kind of marriage I would have had with Richard,’ I said. ‘Jon was special, Mum. No, he is special. I’m not going to give up on him. I know he’s alive, and he’s going to come back to me one day.’
‘Oh, Emma …’ My mother looked at me sadly. ‘I wish you would accept the truth, dearest. Jon’s plane was shot down. It is most unlikely that he survived the crash.’
‘They believe someone got out … a parachute was seen …’
‘They think someone might have got out,’ Mum said. ‘It hasn’t been confirmed officially, has it? You only have Sol’s word that one man might have bailed out.’
‘Sol wouldn’t lie … not about something like that.’ I raised my head. ‘Besides, he doesn’t believe it was Jon. He is just like you, Mum. He thinks I should accept that Jon has … gone. But I can’t. I don’t want to. I love him and he has to come back to me.’
‘Supposing he doesn’t, Emma?’ Her eyes met mine, forcing me to acknowledge what she was saying. ‘I’m not saying you should give up all hope yet – just don’t bank on it, dearest. Jon wouldn’t want you to live alone all your life …’
‘Don’t!’ I held my hand up, warning her to be silent. ‘I don’t want to hear this, Mum. I refuse to even think about it.’
‘No, of course not. It’s much too soon. Forgive me. I just don’t like to see you this way …’
‘I’m all right. Honestly. I’m still going to work, and I’m going to start back at the social club next week. I know life has to go on, Mum. Jon would expect me to carry on as usual …’
‘Yes, you carry on,’ my mother said, nodding to herself. ‘Maybe that’s best. Just carry on the way you always do. You’ll get through this, Emma.’
‘Yes, of course I shall. It’s just a case of waiting …’
But the waiting was so hard, and the nights were filled with fear and pain. It wouldn’t be so bad if I could just hear something … a confirmation that Jon had been taken prisoner perhaps.
‘Emma, I think …’
Our conversation was interrupted at that moment by Mrs Rowan. She came into the room, hesitating before speaking.
‘I am sorry to disturb you, Mrs Reece, but Mr Harvey is here. He would like to speak with you … Shall I tell him you are busy?’
‘No …’ I said. ‘Please ask him to come in.’
My mother looked at me as the housekeeper departed. ‘Who is Mr Harvey?’
‘A friend of Sol’s,’ I replied. ‘I asked him to call, Mum.’
‘Why, Emma?’ She turned as Jack entered, the question unanswered.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come before,’ Jack said. ‘I’ve been rather tied up, Emma …’ He glanced at my mother. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.’
‘This is my mother,’ I said. ‘Mrs Fitch … Mum, this is Mr Harvey. I asked him to call because I’m going to ask him if he will help me.’
‘Emma …’ she said. ‘Oh, Emma …’
‘You know I will do whatever I can,’ Jack said, his eyes meeting mine across the room. ‘But I think I can guess, Emma. You want me to find out what I can … about Jon. That’s it, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, please,’ I said. ‘I know it’s early days yet, Jack – but Sol can’t find out anything more. He has tried, but they just keep telling him they don’t know. I thought … perhaps there might be some way to cut through red tape …’
‘Your government probably doesn’t know anything,’ Jack said, ‘but there are people who can find out these things. It may take months. If Jon is in a camp … even a year or longer …’
‘Yes, I know that,’ I said. ‘But if there is any way to find out for certain …’
‘It can be done,’ Jack said. ‘I know people. I’ll set things in motion. But you will have to be patient, Emma.’
‘Yes, of course. Just as long as I know someone is trying …’
Jack’s eyes met mine. ‘It gives you hope, and that helps.’
‘Thank you for understanding,’ I said and he smiled at me.
‘That’s what friends are for,’ he said; then he came to take my hand in his. ‘I’ll do what I can, Emma. I promise you. If Jon is in a camp, I’ll find out somehow …’
‘It’s all I ask,’ I said. I raised my head, gazing into his eyes. ‘I know I have no right to ask anything, but I should be so grateful …’
‘You can ask me for anything you want,’ Jack said, and grinned at me. ‘I’m leaving for America tomorrow, Emma. I may be away for months. If you don’t hear anything, don’t think I’ve given up. I shan’t forget you. Remember that always.’
‘Yes …’ I felt my cheeks go pink and took my hand from his. The expression in his eyes and the warmth in his voice was too revealing. ‘Thank you, Jack. Thank you for being my friend …’
‘I’ll be seeing you,’ he said. ‘Keep your chin up, Emma. If life kicks you in the guts, kick it back – that’s what I do.’ He was grinning as he gave me a swift kiss on the lips; then he turned to my mother. ‘Look after her, Mrs Fitch. Just until I come back …’
I stood where I was as Jack walked from the room, feeling stunned. I had known Jack was interested from the moment we met at that reception, but I hadn’t realized it went so deep with him. I’d thought he was the kind of man who enjoyed playing games, that he was merely flirting with me to pass the time.
‘He’s in love with you, Emma,’ my mother said after a few moments in which neither of us had spoken.
‘No, of course he isn’t,’ I said. ‘We’ve only met a couple of times – and I hardly noticed him the first time.’
‘All it takes is one look in some cases,’ she said, and there was a hint of satisfaction in her eyes. I knew what she was thinking and I was angry.
‘I love Jon,’ I said. ‘I shall always love him, Mum.’
‘Always is a long time, Emma.’
‘Please don’t! I can’t bear this. I asked Jack for his help, because he has all sorts of powerful friends. He is a rich man, Mum – a man from a wealthy, important family in America. They own a chain of fashion stores, and Jack has his fingers in all kinds of pies. Just remember who and what I am … even if I was interested, which I’m not.’
‘Not now, of course not,’ she said. ‘Forgive me, Emma. I shouldn’t have spoken my thoughts aloud – but that man does love you. And I doubt very much if he cares who or what your father was.’
‘Which reminds me,’ I said, changing the subject. She meant well, of course, but I didn’t want to think about a future which did not include my darling Jon. ‘I had another letter from Gwendoline. She says her mother has been ill, and she hasn’t been able to leave her – but now Mrs Robinson is better again and she wants to come and see me. Gwendoline, that is, not her mother.’
‘She wants something,’ Mum warned. ‘Believe me, Emma. I suppose you can’t stop her coming if she wants – but don’t give her money.’
‘At the moment I don’t have much to give her,’ I said. ‘Everything I have is tied up in some way. I only have what I earn and and a few pounds for emergencies. The profits from Madge’s shop are a little extra now and then, but we’ve been putting most of it back into stock while we can.’
‘Good.’ Mum looked pleased. ‘You can’t give away what you haven’t got. And she’s coming to beg, Emma. I’d bet my last shilling on it.’