It was nice being home for a short break, Angela thought as she finished arranging the flowers in the church hall. She’d come down late on Friday so that she could help her mother on the day of the dance and this was the first she’d seen of the arrangements. The people from a local and very popular inn had just arrived to set up the bar and the tables for the buffet. Mrs Hendry never did things by half. The buffet would be high quality and everyone would be given a glass of white wine on his or her arrival. After that the bar would be charged for and a percentage of the profits would be donated to the charity. Mrs Hendry had used the caterers before and said they were always reliable.
Angela had invited several of the nurses and carers from St Saviour’s, offering them the tickets for free as a reward for all their hard work, but only Michelle and Sally had taken her up on her offer and they were coming down that day and would stay at her home overnight.
Angela wandered over and introduced herself to the caterers, studying the menu with awe: tiny pastry tarts filled with smoked salmon or cream cheese with chives; game pâté on squares of toast, and cold asparagus wrapped in thin brown bread – wherever did they get that at this time of year? Out of a jar perhaps, or was it imported? Harrods often had out-of-season imported foods that no one else would think of selling. Also prawns in a rose sauce in flaky pastry cups, special game pies, venison and herb tartlets, and local cheeses with fresh bread and butter and pickles.
Just looking at the smart menu made her mouth water. It was an age since she’d tasted anything as good, not since she’d gone to London – except for the times Mark had taken her out, of course. Even then, she hadn’t had half the choice there was on her mother’s enticing menu. No wonder people with money thought it worth the price of the tickets! Yet even though the food made her feel hungry, a part of her was revolted at the thought of all the money squandered on luxuries like this. Remembering the shortages they’d all endured for several long years, and the homes the St Saviour’s children came from, where they were fortunate to have a bit of bread and dripping, she felt angry. Where was the justice when some people had so much and others had nothing? It made her feel ashamed of the things she’d taken for granted all her life, and determined to do more to help those in need.
Yet she was a sane, sensible woman and she knew that she couldn’t expect everyone to have her own sense of social justice and fair play. Reading the menu again, she was amazed. How on earth did the caterers make a profit out of what her mother was charging for the tickets? Angela realised that her mother had pulled out all the stops to make this a special affair and had gone to so much trouble with all these tasty morsels that made her feel hungry just at the thought of them.
Angela thanked the caterers, and then went to put on her warm red coat. She was just leaving the hall when a car drew up and Mark Adderbury waved to her. He was casually dressed in slacks and an open-necked shirt under a tweed jacket, very different from the smart suits he wore in London.
‘Are you on your way home? Mrs Hendry told me you were here – may I give you a lift?’ He got out to open the door for her, and Angela paused to glance round at the quiet country scene, so very different from the grime of Spitalfields, before she slid into the passenger seat, appreciating the smell of leather.
A wry smile touched her mouth as she realised that she had conflicting emotions: Mark was one of the well-off people she’d been angry about earlier, but he used his money and his time to help others less fortunate. Yet that didn’t stop him enjoying a nice car or a pleasant home, and good food too. Perhaps this need inside her to help the people who were in desperate straits sometimes led her to be too harsh. Her mother was undoubtedly a middle-class snob, who admired people with money – but she’d worked very hard to make this event a success and Angela would be sure to thank her properly for that.
‘It should be a good do this evening?’
‘Oh yes, I think so,’ she said, glancing at him as he started the car. ‘You are coming, I hope?’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Mrs Hendry’s charity affairs are always worth attending. Your mother has the knack for this sort of thing, Angela.’
‘Yes, she really does,’ Angela acknowledged. ‘You should see the menu for the buffet. I’m used to piles of sandwiches and fruitcake without much fruit in it, and mostly pastry sausage rolls, if we’re lucky. It made me feel ravenous just to see what they have planned for tonight.’
‘Your mother’s dinner dances are famous,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you out for lunch if you like – treat you to something special?’
‘Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got masses more to do at home and I can’t leave it to my mother; she’s done enough as it is … and she’s looking a bit tired, I thought. Mother has invited you to her drinks party before the dance, hasn’t she?’
‘Yes. I imagine you will be busy helping with that,’ Mark said, a little sigh escaping him. ‘I was hoping I might get you to myself for a while.’
‘Lunch tomorrow?’ she said on a teasing note. ‘I can catch the later train back to London.’
‘Why don’t I drive you back? We can stop for lunch at one of my favourite restaurants on the way.’
‘Lovely,’ Angela said. ‘Yes, I shall enjoy that far more than trying to squeeze a hasty lunch in today.’
‘That is a date,’ Mark said, drawing to a halt in front of her father’s modern red brick house. It had large gardens all round, though at the moment they looked a little forlorn. ‘I shall see you this evening – don’t work too hard.’
‘Oh, I enjoy it,’ Angela said as he opened the door for her to get out. ‘I shall enjoy this evening all the more because you will be there, Mark. I have you to thank for my job at St Saviour’s and I’m so grateful.’
‘Getting on better with Sister Beatrice now?’
‘I think I understand her a little better. We had a long discussion after I apologised for speaking out of turn and Sister has been thinking about some ideas of her own, which she will no doubt tell you when she’s ready …’
‘Well, keep trying. We need both of you at St Saviour’s, Angela.’
Angela turned to wave as he drove off. She was trying very hard to keep the truce with Sister Beatrice but there was a slight feeling of tension between them and one of these days it was going to boil over.
Michelle and Sally had arrived and were unpacking in their room. Angela smiled as she saw the tasteful flowers her mother had arranged, the clean towels, fresh individual soaps and flannels that had been put out for them. Everything was as perfect as Mrs Hendry could make it, and most of it she’d done herself, because she only had a daily for the rough work and a cook when she was entertaining.
Sally turned as she came in. ‘Your parents have a lovely home, Angela. I’m not sure I’d want to work in London if I lived here.’
‘It is nice but I was bored. I hope you will be comfortable here.’
‘It is very nice,’ Michelle said and smiled. ‘We’re both looking forward to this evening.’
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t manage tickets for your boyfriends but they were all gone. I only managed to wangle two in the end.’
‘I don’t really have a boyfriend,’ Sally said and laughed, though her cheeks were flushed and her eyes did not meet Angela’s.
‘I haven’t got anyone special either,’ Michelle said.
‘Is there anything we can do to help Mrs Hendry?’ Sally offered and Michelle nodded agreement.
‘I’ll ask her after lunch, but I expect she will say you’re here to enjoy yourselves and tell you to walk down to the river and explore for a couple of hours – and you are here to relax. You both work extremely hard at St Saviour’s and that’s why I offered free tickets, because all this is as much for you as the children.’
Angela walked away, leaving the girls to hang up their dresses for the evening. She herself intended to help prepare canapés and polish glasses ready for their guests that evening, but her mother would never allow guests to help.
‘Well, your mother has done herself and you proud, my love,’ Mr Hendry said, coming up to Angela as she stood by an open window, surveying the crowded room. It was filled with prosperous men and their wives and daughters, all of them wearing expensive gowns and diamond rings on their fingers, the scent of French perfume heavy on the air. ‘I think everyone is enjoying themselves – including the friends you invited down.’
‘Yes, they’ve both been dancing most of the time.’ Angela had noticed that Sally had drunk lemonade all night, though Michelle seemed to enjoy the wine and punch cups on offer and might have been just a little merry.
‘What about you? Too tired to dance with your old man?’
‘Oh, Daddy, of course I’m not,’ Angela said and put down her lemonade. She too had steered clear of both the wine and the heady punch cups. ‘I should love to dance with you.’
He took her hand and led her onto the floor just as the band struck up for another waltz. Smiling, Angela followed his lead. Her father was a good dancer and he’d taught her when she was fourteen at one of her mother’s charity events.
‘I’ve missed you, my love,’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘Are you happy up there? If not you can come home and help me in the office again.’
‘Thank you for asking but I love my work. It’s the children, Daddy. Some of them tug at your heartstrings and you want to scoop them up and protect them from all harm.’
‘Yes, children have a way of doing that to you,’ he murmured. ‘It’s the way I feel about you, even though you’re grown up and you’ve been married. You see, you will always be my little girl. When we lost your brother you became all the more precious to me.’
‘Oh, Dad. I’m glad I’m precious to you, but I wish you hadn’t lost Steven.’
‘At least he was spared the horror of war. Besides, you are enough for me – my special person in all the world.’ He squeezed her hand and smiled down at her. ‘That’s why I want to look after you.’
He was still a very attractive man with silvered hair at the temples and a distinguished air, but there were slight signs of strain in his face that she hadn’t noticed before. She wondered but then he smiled at a friend and the look had vanished.
‘I love you too, but I don’t need protecting now. I have to go out into the world and fight dragons for myself.’
‘And for some of those children?’
‘Yes, particularly one little girl and boy at the moment. I’m worried about him, Daddy. He’s gone missing and I’m not sure why. Sister Beatrice thinks he ran away because he’d been naughty, but Mary Ellen is sure it’s something different; but won’t tell me why, though I think it may be something to do with his bully of a brother.’
‘If you’re worried you should go to the police.’
‘We have but Sister is anxious not to cause too much fuss in case they think Billy ought to be sent elsewhere –’
‘I could put you in touch with a lawyer who would help if it comes to that.’
‘Yes, thank you.’ She looked up at him. ‘Are you all right? Nothing wrong?’
‘Of course not, why do you ask?’
She shook her head. ‘No reason, just asking …’ she murmured as their dance ended.
Angela was about to seek out her mother and ask her if she needed any help when Mark Adderbury came up to her.
‘That is a wonderful dress, Angela. Red always suits you.’
‘I bought it before the war,’ she said and laughed. ‘But thank you for the compliment.’
‘You haven’t danced with me yet this evening,’ he said. ‘Do you have a spare dance for an old friend?’
‘Of course I have,’ Angela said. ‘I had to dance with all those businessmen Mother had invited to meet me. I’m after donations for my fund for the children and so far it looks promising. I might get even more than the dance itself will raise if they all keep their word.’
Mark led her into the quickstep and there was little time for small talk, because it took all her concentration and breath to keep up with the pace of the intricate steps. By the time they’d finished she was laughing, out of breath and warm. She smiled up at him, wondering at the look in his eyes. Just for a moment there was something that made her catch her breath … but then it had gone and he was his normal caring and calm self; the man who had helped pull her through the months of sorrow and despair.
‘I must go and dance with those St Saviour’s girls,’ Mark said. ‘I shall see you in the morning, Angela.’
She smiled, watching as he walked away to speak to Michelle, who was standing with a glass in her hand. Sally was dancing with someone. Angela looked again and realised it was Mr Markham. She hadn’t known he would be there that evening; Mark must have sold him the ticket. He and Sally seemed to be getting on well. Sally was laughing and gazing up at him, her eyes bright with excitement – and was that something more? Angela was surprised and then pleased, because they looked so right together. Her mother might say the two were worlds apart, but Angela didn’t agree. If they loved each other – and from what she could see she was guessing they did – then let the world say what it liked. Angela was just glad the girl she liked so much was enjoying herself.
‘Well, are you satisfied, Angela?’ her mother’s voice said from behind her. ‘I really don’t know what you expected from this evening – but I’ve done my best for you. Just do not ask me to do it again. I’m really not sure I could raise the enthusiasm for such an event twice.’
‘Don’t spoil it, Mum, please.’ Angela turned to look at her mother, who had come up to her unnoticed, and frowned. ‘It’s a lovely evening, Mum. You’ve done us proud. I know you don’t approve of me working at St Saviour’s but it is something I wanted to do and I am grateful for this evening.’ Angela noticed that her mother looked a little flushed, which was unusual for her.
‘Well, I wanted it to be special.’ Her mother stared at her. ‘You’re looking thin. Why don’t you come home and settle down? There are several perfectly eligible men here this evening. I’m sure you could find someone if you tried – and stop all this charity nonsense. You’re letting yourself down, Angela, and us. If you want to help others, I could give you some work writing letters and raising money for the vicar’s latest project overseas.’
‘Mum, why can’t you see what’s under your nose? There are children in London close to starving …’
‘Well, I’m sure they needn’t be if their parents stopped drinking and went to work. You’ve changed since you married, Angela, and I don’t like it. Why can’t you be as you were before the war?’
‘Because it changed everything … including me, Mum.’
‘I suppose you’re still grieving over John. Surely, it’s time to move on, my dear? I’m only thinking of your happiness.’
‘I know but I’m happy doing what I’m doing, and I have no intention of remarrying for a while.’
‘You can’t still be grieving after all this time?’
‘I loved him very much, Mum. I shall never forget but, yes, I can think of John without breaking down now. However, I’m not ready to move on – and I certainly don’t want to get married.’
‘Well, I don’t understand you, and I think you’re a fool. Anyone can see that Mark … but you won’t listen to me. I may not approve of what you do, Angela, but I hope you know I would help if you needed me.’
‘You’ve been wonderful.’ Angela kissed her cheek and caught the smell of strong alcohol, a smell she’d never associated with her mother. She must have taken a stiff whiskey to keep up her strength for the evening. ‘A real brick … but you’re looking tired. I hope all this wasn’t too much – it hasn’t knackered you?’
‘Really, Angela. Language, my dear! I hope you are not learning bad ways at that orphanage of yours.’
Angela stared at her and then started to giggle. Her mother looked bewildered but she just shook her head, unable to find the words. She’d spent all this time working to make this evening a success for the children of St Saviour’s but that didn’t mean she approved of them.
‘Why are you laughing? For heaven’s sake, Angela, I cannot understand you.’
‘Nothing,’ Angela told her, seeing the flicker of annoyance in her eyes. Her mother would never accept why she did what she did and that made her sad, but she would try to ignore her barbs and keep the peace between them, for her father’s sake if not her own. ‘I’m just happy, that’s all. And I do appreciate you, Mum, even if we don’t understand each other all the time.’
‘I have enjoyed this weekend,’ Mark said as they left the splendid but very ancient inn where they had enjoyed a wonderful lunch of fresh salmon in a delicious sauce, salads and tiny sautéed potatoes. ‘I can’t recall when I’ve felt so relaxed and free of care.’
‘It has been fun,’ Angela agreed. ‘Mother outdid herself last evening, and this was a lovely idea, Mark. Much nicer and easier for me than dragging that heavy suitcase on the train.’
‘Is all that stuff for the church jumble sale?’
‘It’s a “bring and buy” sale, I’ll have you know,’ she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘An upmarket jumble sale I’ll grant you, but I scrounged some good things from my mother’s friends as well as my own bits and pieces. Some of it is old-fashioned but the cloth is good and can be remodelled – and there was so much stuff in Mother’s wardrobe that she will never wear. I don’t know where it came from, because most of it isn’t her style at all and I’m not even sure it would fit her. I asked if she could spare anything and she said take what I want so I did – but nothing she really likes, of course.’
‘Well, you certainly deserve success,’ Mark said approvingly. ‘You’ve worked very hard, Angela, and justified my faith in you.’
‘I’m so grateful to you,’ she said as she slid into the front passenger seat. ‘I am finding this work very rewarding.’
He stood looking down at her before closing the door. ‘And how do you feel in yourself? Not just putting on a brave face, I hope?’
‘No, I’m getting there little by little,’ she replied, the smile leaving her eyes. ‘I still think of John most days but it is becoming easier. Now I can remember the lovely times – the happiness we shared for such a short time.’
‘It would never have been long enough, Angela. When you love someone you carry that with you for the rest of your life.’
‘Is that how you felt when your wife died?’
‘I felt and still feel mostly guilt.’ There was a sombre look in his eyes. ‘I didn’t love her as I should and I neglected her when she needed me most – and so I blame myself for her death.’
‘I’m sure it wasn’t your fault, Mark. You’re a busy man and …’
‘Don’t make excuses for me. I should have known how she felt about the death of our child – but I chose to throw myself into my work.’
‘We can all find reasons to blame ourselves.’
‘Not you, Angela. You adored John and he knew it.’
‘Yes, that is true – but we quarrelled on his last leave. I told him he was too controlling, because he objected to me wanting to join the Wrens. I told him I wanted to carry on working for the hospital after the war and he didn’t agree. We made it up before he went back, but it has stayed with me and I’ve regretted it so bitterly … for a long time I wondered if he felt I’d regretted our marriage; if he was careless because of it …’ She choked back a sob. ‘So stupid of me. It was just a little quarrel and he forgave me but … I cannot forgive myself. I spoiled a day of our time together by insisting on my own way when I should have been making the most of every second.’
‘Yes, I do see how that would feel,’ Mark said. ‘Believe me, John wouldn’t have harboured a grudge; he wouldn’t have thought badly of you. He probably blamed himself, because it was old-fashioned of him to expect you to give up the work you enjoyed, and there could have been no harm in your carrying on – at least until you started a family. Personally, I think it does married women no harm to work outside the home if they wish, but I know that not many men agree with me. When the children come it is different, of course.’
‘Unfortunately, that never happened. Besides, why should that stop women having a career? As long as there is love and the children are cared for properly – why should a woman not go on with her career? Why shouldn’t the man help with childcare – or is that too outrageous even for you, Mark?’ Angela looked at him provocatively and he gave a shout of laughter.
‘Well, that is something I’d never thought about, Angela. It’s a bold idea and I’m not saying it’s wrong, but I should like time to consider before making my plea, your honour.’
She looked at him in amusement. ‘Did I get on my soapbox? I do that sometimes when I feel something strongly, I’m afraid.’
Mark was silent for a moment, then, ‘Would you like children of your own?’
‘Perhaps but I’m not ready to think of marriage yet, Mark.’
‘I know, but one day you may want a family – and I’m sure your father would enjoy grandchildren.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ Angela acknowledged in her heart that he was right. Yet how could she think of a domestic life without John? To contemplate having children with another man was a terrible betrayal of their love. ‘We must hope that both of us find love again, Mark.’
‘Yes,’ he said, but there was an odd look in his eyes as he turned away and inserted the key, starting the engine without looking at her. ‘I hope we shall both be fortunate one day …’