Darkest Before Dawn (48 page)

Jubilantly, Toby sent a telegram to the Wilmslow shop both admitting his need and warning them of his imminent arrival.
Week off stop Need bike stop In Liverpool Wednesday
, it read,
Regards Toby
. He hoped that Mr Wilmslow, who knew all his customers and most of his neighbours, might manage to find him a suitable bicycle, for Toby did not fancy walking five miles to work each day and five miles back. He finished his last relief job on Friday night and caught a bus to the village nearest his new signal box, where he went into the tiny local shop and explained his predicament. The man he was replacing had not lodged in this particular village, but one even further away, and it looked as if Toby might have to follow his example. However, the lady who ran the shop, fat Mrs Wetherspoon, was a kindly soul and saw Toby's look of disappointment when he asked the time of the bus to the next village. ‘There ain't one, lad, not till Monday, so that means tha'll 'ave to use Shanks's pony,' she told him. ‘And thou's no bike, either, I'll warrant, 'cos they've been like gold dust ever since war. But look on, lad, you're a slender one. I've got a slip of a room upstairs which I scarce use. It's too small for owt but a camp bed. As you can see, I'm busy int shop so I can't feed thee except for breakfast, but if tha'd like use of room and provide thy own grub, then it's thine for half a crown a week.'

Toby was bowled over by this offer and accepted at once. ‘Happen I'll be getting a bike,' he told her. ‘I've a pal in Liverpool – a local shop owner actually – who's keeping an eye out for one. But it's most awfully good of you, Mrs Wetherspoon, to let me have the room and I promise I won't get in your way or cause any sort of bother.' He hesitated. ‘Would – would it be all right if I borrowed your kitchen for half an hour or so each day, though? I'll eat cold food as much as I can, but with winter coming on . . .'

‘Tha's welcome to have the use of me kitchen, though I don't have electric or gas, just a coal stove. Water comes from a pump int yard and lavvy is an earth closet down by woodshed.' She looked at him hard. ‘If you want truth, young man, it's all round village that you were a prisoner of them wicked Japs so I reckon it's duty of every decent Englishman to give thee a bit of a leg-up, like.'

Toby grinned at her. ‘I never thought I'd live to be thankful to a perishin' Jap,' he said cheerfully. ‘God knows, they did their best to make our lives hell, but it seems they've brought me one bit of luck, because lodging with you . . . well, it couldn't be better.'

Encouraged by this, Mrs Wetherspoon led him up an extremely steep flight of tiny wooden stairs to the room she had mentioned. It was indeed tiny, with no space for a washstand or even a chair, just the bed. In addition, the ceiling sloped so sharply that he could only stand upright against the door and the window started below knee level and ended at his ankles. However, there were three stout hooks on the back of the door where he could hang what little clothing he would need, and the view from the window, when Toby knelt down and peered out, was superlative: rolling fells, bosky woodland – red-gold with autumn at this time of year – a tumultuous river glittering in the sunshine and, in the far distance, the outline of a mighty viaduct, standing clear cut against the misty fells.

‘Well?' Mrs Wetherspoon's voice was a little doubtful. ‘I don't deny it's small and there's no room for any sort o' heating, but I've plenty blankets and curtains are thick and will keep out worst of cold. I know window's low, but . . .'

Toby straightened up as much as he could and beamed. ‘It's grand, just grand,' he assured her, ducking out of the room and following her down the narrow stairs. ‘You can't imagine the sort of huts we had in Burma, Mrs Wetherspoon, but . . .'

‘Don't tell me,' the woman said quietly. ‘I had a son, Bobby, who were killed on that bloody railway. If I'd a better room, tha should have it, but my Bobby managed fine in there until he went to war.'

‘I'm sorry,' Toby said inadequately. ‘If I'd known, I wouldn't have said what I did about the Japs, because they did the worst they could and if you ask me they richly deserved those atom bombs.'

‘When will tha be wantin' to move in?'

‘Next Friday, if that will suit you,' Toby said. ‘I shall be going to Liverpool for a few days to see if I can track down a second-hand bike, but I actually start work in the box first shift on Saturday so if I can move in the night before, that'll be grand.'

Evie burst into the shop, which was empty of customers, a triumphant smile on her face, and handed her mother a bulging brown paper bag. ‘I passed Mr Grimshaw's shop on Great Homer and he called me in for a moment. He's a lovely man, he is, and of course he's registered with us for groceries. When I got into the shop, he asked me if I'd like three oranges and a lemon. One of the oranges is split, but only a tiny bit – oh, and there's three apples as well, big cookers. Has Toby arrived yet?'

‘No, not yet,' Martha said placidly, ‘but I dare say he'll be along soon.'

‘He'll be hoping we'll have found him a bicycle. Any news on that front, Uncle Arthur?' Evie asked.

‘Aye, there's an old boneshaker for sale down Horatio Street. It belonged to Mrs Kray's eldest boy, but he's gorra job in London and she don't think he'll want it there. She's askin' thirty bob so I said when the lad came this way he could tek a look and she's promised not to sell it to anyone else until she's had the yea or nay from Toby himself. I give her an ounce of tea,' he added, half apologetically. ‘You don't get anything for nothing these days, norreven a rusty old pedal pusher.'

‘Oh, that's great,' Evie said joyfully. ‘I'm sure Toby will be able to make it good as new. I seem to remember Dad saying he was pretty good with engines and that.'

‘Aye, and he'll likely persuade her to knock off a bob or two,' Mr Wilmslow said wisely. He turned to the stockroom. ‘Put the “Closed” sign up, Evie, there's a good gal, and then we can have our suppers.'

Toby would have been a welcome visitor in any circumstances, but the fact that he arrived bearing a pair of rabbits, a stout bag full of windfall apples, a large bottle of home-brewed cider and a bag containing a dozen eggs made his welcome assured. ‘Mum thought you'd be glad of a few extras seeing as I'm going to be staying over with you for a couple of nights,' he said, piling his gifts up on the kitchen table almost as soon as he reached the flat. They had moved Evie's camp bed from the stockroom to the living room and borrowed another one for Toby to sleep on. This was now erected in the stockroom and he had laid his bed roll out on it on his way upstairs.

‘Is there anything you'd like to do, after we've had supper?' Evie asked, as she and Martha began to stow away the food he had brought. ‘Would you like to go to the flicks? It's a bit late to book for the theatre but we could try, because it gets dark early so there's not much point in going to one of the parks. Or would you prefer a quiet evening in?'

‘I'd like to take a look at that bike,' Toby said at once. ‘It's the devil of a long walk from my lodgings to the signal box, and would take me well over an hour without transport. So you see, it's quite important that I get myself some wheels.'

‘Aye, you're right; the quicker you see the bike, the sooner you'll know whether it'll fit the bill,' Mr Wilmslow said approvingly. ‘And I wouldn't like to think of that ounce of tea being wasted.'

‘Oh, you. You aren't the skinflint you'd like us to believe,' Martha said teasingly. ‘Though you're right, of course; the sooner Toby sees it the better. And now let's have our food. It's only Woolton pie followed by stewed apple and custard, but I dare say it'll keep you going until breakfast tomorrow.'

As they ate, Evie eyed Toby covertly. She had not seen him for a good many months and thought he looked immensely better. His skin had taken on the rosy tan which she remembered of old, his hair seemed thicker and curlier, and there was a sort of easy strength in his movements which had been lacking upon his arrival from the Far East. She thought he looked lovely and guessed that, when Seraphina and he eventually met again, the years would roll back and her sister would be truly in love with him once more. She had said as much to Martha but her mother had scoffed at the idea that Seraphina and Toby had ever been in love. ‘They were just a couple of kids when we lived on the canal,' she had reminded her daughter. ‘Why, they were only seventeen when your pa decided to change his lifestyle; Seraphina hadn't met any young men apart from Toby, and if you ask me, she thought of him as a brother, and still does.'

But this conversation had taken place a couple of weeks before and now Evie tucked her arm into Toby's as the two of them set off to examine the bicycle. ‘Are you thinking of visiting Devon, to see Seraphina?' she asked innocently. ‘I told you, didn't I, that she's hoping to get a divorce? It – it would be a real thrill for her to see you again, Toby. I mean, I know you write to one another, but it's not the same as meeting, is it?'

‘No, and it would be grand to see her, but I'm not planning a visit. It's too far to go on my time off and I shan't be due for any holiday until I've worked my first year,' Toby pointed out.

‘Well, she's a teacher and has all the school holidays; she could come up north then,' Evie said.

‘If she comes home for Christmas, I might manage to have a day with you then. I realise you wouldn't be able to put me up,' he added hastily, ‘but there's plenty of lodging houses where I could get a bed. Still, that's for the future and it's up to Seraphina, really. I don't know much about divorce, but I believe a woman who wants such a thing has to be extremely careful who she meets and how she behaves until what they call the decree nisi is granted. And now let's change the subject, if you don't mind. How well do you know this Mrs Kray? Your stepdad seemed to think I might bargain her down a bit, but there's them as will bargain and them as won't. Which sort is she?'

‘I dunno,' Evie admitted honestly, unabashed by what some might have seen as a snub. She guessed that Toby's feelings for her sister were still locked in his heart, which must mean he did not fancy discussing them. ‘I know the boys quite well, but I've only met their mam once or twice. Still, no harm in asking.'

An hour later, they made their way back along the Scotland Road, but this time Toby was pushing an elderly bicycle for which he had paid the princely sum of 18/6d. Mrs Kray might not have reduced the price by so much as a penny, but by a great piece of good fortune her son, Jimmy, had come home whilst they were examining the bicycle and had whistled expressively when he had heard the sum of thirty bob mentioned. ‘Dammit, Mam, I only paid ten bob for it meself, and that were back in 1940,' he told her. ‘Mind you, it's bleedin' difficult to lay hands on so much as a kiddy's tricycle these days. So I reckon eighteen and a tanner would be fair to both parties.'

Toby had paid over his money at once and Evie could see he was well pleased with his bargain. They walked home planning how Toby would strip the bike down, in the Wilmslows' back yard, next day, and put right all the things that were wrong with it. ‘I'll need new brake locks, a new front tyre, front and rear lights, and one of those leather bags that you strap on to the back of the seat to keep a puncture outfit, a couple of spanners and my dinner in,' Toby planned. ‘I wonder what it'll cost me to take it all the way back to my station? I only paid a quarter fare to get here and back, though I believe it should have been more, but railway chaps are good to each other. We're not exactly overpaid, and a friendly guard might look the other way when I put my bicycle into his van, which will save me a bob or two.'

When Evie returned from work next day, she told Toby that she would scarcely have known the bicycle. It had been rusty and dirty, the front tyre completely flat, the saddle worn down to the springs, but Toby had changed all that. He had bought a new saddle and a new front tyre and had worked away at the rust until the frame was as clean as a whistle. In fact, when he rode it round the yard, she told him it looked as good as a new machine and would doubtless repay his care with years of trouble-free cycling.

Toby laughed and dismounted and pushed the bicycle into the stockroom, through the narrow back door. ‘Yes, it does look pretty good,' he admitted. ‘In fact, I bought myself a chain and padlock, just in case someone else took a fancy to it. Now, Evie, the business part of my stay is over and we can have some fun. What would you like to do this evening?'

In the end, they decided to stay in and play cards, and Toby talked about his new job, the countryside in which it was situated, and his digs. He was unable to describe, fully, the wild beauty of the scenery and told Evie that she really must come up and visit him, though such a visit would have to be made in summer since she could only be accommodated in one of the neighbouring houses when their lodger was taking his annual holiday.

‘But – won't I see you until then?' Evie said, rather helplessly. ‘And what will you do if – if you get married, Toby? You can't have a wife living in one place whilst you live in another, you know.'

Toby grinned affectionately at her. ‘Look, I'm going to be very frank with you, Evie. You think that Fee has fallen out of love with that handsome yeller-headed feller she married and will get a divorce, but myself, I don't see it. If she were free . . . well, I suppose that would be different . . . but she isn't. And even if she were free, that doesn't mean she'd want to dive straight into marriage with someone else. Come to that, it's been years since Fee and I were close and I'm not at all sure that I want to marry anyone, so give it a break, will you?'