Dream a Little Dream (2 page)

Robert sighed, asking himself why he bothered. Not once while he was talking was there a flicker to show his wife remembered those days. He shouldn’t have expected any, knowing she’d spent the last seventeen years deliberately putting them out of her mind. She’d worked hard on losing her Liverpool accent, and the richer they became, the more of a
snob
she became. And like a fool, he’d allowed her to change him, as well. At least on the surface she had. She’d be horrified if she knew he often frequented a small local pub near his office. And if she heard him in conversation with some of the workmen in the pub, sipping a pint of bitter and conversing so easily in the local dialect, she’d have one of the fainting fits she seemed able to bring about at will, and which confined her to bed for the day. But Robert had noticed these dizzy spells never occurred on a day she was entertaining some of her snooty friends. She was all sweetness and light then, playing the perfect hostess as if she had never known any other kind of life.

‘I would very much like to go back to reading my paper now,’ he said firmly, ‘if you would kindly leave me alone to do so.’

As he swivelled his chair back towards the view of the garden, Robert didn’t need to be told his wife was blazing with anger. He could hear it in the swish of her long black skirt, and the harsh closing of the door. Years ago, this would have upset him, and he’d have halted the argument with a kiss. But those days were long gone. There was no love or passion in their marriage now, it had been slowly killed by her aloofness. They shared the same bed because of the children, but they hadn’t lived as man and wife since Abbie was born, seventeen years ago. Although Edwina never spoke the words, she made it clear that she had done her duty by giving him three children and found the act of lovemaking sordid.

Robert opened the newspaper and sought the article he’d been reading before the interruption, but he could no longer interest himself in it and let the paper fall to his lap. Resting his head on one of the wings of the maroon velvet chair, he closed his eyes and let his mind take him back in time. It was 1901, he was fourteen and had left school. Jobs weren’t easy to come by, and he thought himself lucky to be taken on by a man who had a small furniture-removal business. The wages were low, only two bob a week, but his mother had said it was
better
than nothing and would tide him over while he looked for something that paid better. But Bob, as he was called then, loved the work because he was able to sit on the long seat at the front of the cart and watch the horse clip-clopping along. And after a few months, his boss, Will Lathom, let him take the reins and it was one of the most exciting days of his life. He became attached to Mr Lathom and Blackie, the horse, and he felt proud sitting on a cart that had high sides and bore the name of
William Lathom – Furniture Removals
. And he never did look for another job. He was a big lad for his age and capable of handling heavy furniture with ease, so they were able to take on more jobs and soon he was given a shilling a week rise in his pay. He’d been so proud that day, he remembered, when he handed his mother his wages. And the sixpence he got back as pocket-money made him feel like a millionaire.

He was so lost in thought, Robert didn’t hear the discreet cough of the housekeeper and was startled when she appeared in front of him. ‘I thought yer might like a cup of tea, Mr Robert.’ She handed him a delicate china cup and saucer. ‘A little milk and two sugars, just as yer like it.’

‘Thank you, Agnes, that’s very thoughtful of you.’

‘Dinner will be in half an hour, sir.’

He smiled up at the woman who had been their live-in housekeeper for the last ten years. She was a good, hard worker, her cooking renowned, and the envy of all their friends. But her greatest gift, Robert thought, was that she smiled a lot and was very down to earth. She knew her place, but wasn’t afraid to speak her mind if she thought she was right. She had been known to swear like a trooper on occasion, but housekeepers of her calibre were hard to come by, so even Edwina handled Agnes Weatherby with care.

‘I’ll drink my tea and then change for dinner.’ Robert pursed his lips. ‘On second thoughts, Agnes, I might not get changed for dinner tonight.’

‘If yer don’t feel like it, Mr Robert, then don’t get changed.’
The
housekeeper walked towards the door, muttering, ‘Waste of bleedin’ time anyway, if yer ask me.’

Robert swallowed a mouthful of tea before setting the cup back in the saucer. Then he chuckled and called after her, ‘I agree, Agnes, it is a waste of bleedin’ time.’

She turned with her hand on the door knob and a look of innocence on her chubby face. ‘I never said no such thing, Mr Robert, yer must be hearing things.’ Then she straightened the white cap on her head and smoothed her apron down over her ample bosom and tummy. ‘It’s either that, or I was talking to meself.’ She gave him a broad wink then disappeared through the door to walk down the wide, expensively carpeted hall, to her domain. Nobody entered her kitchen without first knocking. Once there, she again addressed herself. ‘Him and Miss Abbie are the only two sane people in the bleedin’ house! The other three are away for slates and haven’t a clue what life’s all about. Lazy buggers, if yer ask me, more money than sense.’

Robert finished his tea and was placing the saucer on a mahogany side table when his eyes lit on the solid crystal ashtray. His wife disapproved of smoking and wrinkled her nose at the smell of tobacco, so for the sake of peace he used his study as a smoke room. But tonight he was going to change the rules. He would smoke his cigar here, and instead of changing for dinner, he would spend the time reflecting on the past. So when his cigar had caught, he puffed away contentedly and allowed his mind to go back in time, to when he was eighteen. There was one day which would always stand out in his mind, because, although he wasn’t to know it then, it was the day that was to change his life.

Will Lathom had been complaining about feeling off-colour for some weeks, but had struggled to carry on working because he had plenty of orders and didn’t want to let people down. But one morning when Robert called for him, Mrs Lathom invited him in and said her husband was ill in bed, and he’d asked her to say he wanted a word with Robert. It was plain to see the man was in a bad state, with a racking cough and high
temperature
. And worrying about the four removal jobs they had for that day certainly wasn’t helping. The people would have all their belongings packed ready to move, and if he let them down, word would get around like wildfire that he wasn’t reliable and his reputation would suffer.

Robert had stood at the bottom of the bed and tried to calm the man down. He said he knew the job inside out, and if he had help, he knew he could manage. There was a lad in his street who would be glad of a day’s work, and if Will agreed, he’d pick the lad up and get started. That first day had been a nightmare. The young lad, Jeff, was willing enough, but wasn’t used to handling furniture or breakables, and Robert needed eyes in the back of his head, making sure nothing was scratched or broken. But he was determined to show he could manage the round until Mr Lathom was better, so he and young Jeff ran themselves ragged in the process. And when he knocked at the Lathoms’ house that night, an hour later than the usual time for finishing, he was almost dead on his feet. He passed over two pounds five shillings and sixpence that night, just for one day’s work. It had been a busy day, granted, but even so Mr Lathom must be earning at least ten pounds a week. And that was after he’d paid Robert’s wages and the bloke a few streets away where the horse and cart were stabled. So as he walked home that night, bone weary, Robert told himself that although the day had been hard, he’d learned something. That it was a mug’s game to work for someone if you had the wherewithal to start your own business. It was a pipe dream, he’d never have the money to do that, but dreams didn’t cost anything.

Will Lathom’s health deteriorated and he was never able to return to work. So one day, a month after Robert had started to run the business on his own, the older man patted the side of his bed and told him to sit down. Then, with a catch in his voice, he said the doctor didn’t give him much hope, so he wanted to sort his affairs out. He needed to make sure his wife and kids would be all right, so he had a proposition to put to
Robert
. He had a bit of money put by, but he wanted to make sure his family had enough to keep the wolf from the door. So he asked if they could continue with the present arrangement for another six months, giving him time to build on his savings. Then at the end of that time he’d be prepared to sell the business to Robert for the sum of five pounds. That included the business and the horse and cart. And it would all be done legally, of course, drawn up by a Commissioner for Oaths.

The emotions that ran through the young man’s mind that day would stay forever in his memory. Sadness that Mr Lathom was dying, because he’d grown really fond of the man. Then excitement that in six months he’d be his own boss. But after the initial sensation, came reality. He’d never be able to save five pounds in six months because he didn’t have that much to himself once he paid his mam his keep. And he couldn’t, or wouldn’t leave her without because she was struggling as it was and would never manage on the pittance his dad earned.

He’d racked his brains on the walk home that night, but when he was putting the key in the door, he still hadn’t found a solution. It would take a miracle, and who had ever heard of a miracle happening in Seaforth? Best to forget about it. He should have known it was too good to be true.

‘Robert, what are you thinking of?’ Edwina stood at the side of his chair, a frown on her face. ‘Dinner is ready and you haven’t even changed yet.’

‘I decided not to bother changing.’ He looked at her through narrowed eyes, remembering her as she was all those years ago, and now seeing what she had become. ‘I’ve spent the time reminiscing about the old days, instead. I’d just got to the part where Will Lathom had offered to sell me his business for five pound, and I couldn’t see a way clear to raising the money. D’you remember Will Lathom, Edie? I used to work for him before I started going out with you.’

Edwina flinched at his use of her old name. ‘You would have been better employed making yourself respectable to sit
down
to a meal. What good does it do to hark back to the old days?’

‘Oh, I often do it. And just lately I’ve been wondering if life wouldn’t have been better if my mother hadn’t struggled to help me raise that five pound. In gaining the wealth that we now have, we lost something that is far more important. We lost the ability to laugh and love. Sadly, there isn’t much of either in this house. Our old neighbours in Seaforth would be green with envy if they saw us now, but I think they are the lucky ones. At forty-six I’m still quite a young man, with the needs of a young man. But I don’t have the kind of loving wife who would find pleasure in satisfying those needs.’

Edwina heard the voices of her eldest daughter and son in the hall, and lifted a hand to silence her husband. What was the man thinking about, he was quite mad! ‘The children are here, shall we take our seats at the table?’ She glanced nervously at him as he took his seat at the top of the table. Surely he wouldn’t bring up the bad old days and embarrass her? The children had no recollection of being poor because by the time Victoria was born, and Nigel two years later, they were living in a six-roomed house and were quite comfortably off. The horse and cart had long gone, and Robert had two motorised removal vans and employed four men.

‘Good evening, Father.’ Victoria smiled across the table. She was a very attractive girl who had inherited her mother’s colouring, with mousy hair and hazel eyes. But she had a clear complexion and a fine set of white teeth. She had very good taste in clothes and chose those which showed off her slender figure and shapely legs to advantage. ‘Have you been naughty? I do believe I smell cigar smoke.’

‘Your father’s had a busy day and needed to relax.’ Edwina spoke before her husband could answer. It was to act as a warning to her daughter and also, hopefully, to soothe Robert. ‘He spent an hour in his favourite chair and I’m sure he feels much better.’

‘You work too hard, Father.’ Nigel had the same mousy hair
as
his sister, but there the resemblance ended. He was pale of face, with watery hazel eyes and a weak chin. Everything about him was effeminate. His mannerisms, mincing walk and high-pitched voice. ‘You should leave the work to those you employ. That’s what you pay them for.’ He giggled like a girl, thinking what he was about to say was funny. ‘After all, what’s the point of keeping a dog and barking yourself, eh, what?’

Robert was saved from answering when Abbie entered the room. She came in smiling, like a breath of fresh air. ‘I’m sorry I’m late, I didn’t hear the bell.’

‘That is no excuse,’ Edwina said. ‘You have a clock in your room and you know we dine at seven, not ten past.’

‘Are you going to tell Agnes off, too?’ Robert asked. ‘As you remarked, it’s ten past seven and no dinner on the table. Oh dear, oh dear!’

‘Is somebody taking my name in vain?’ Agnes pushed open the door with her hip, a huge soup tureen in her hands. While the housekeeper had told Robert not to change if he didn’t feel like it, she had herself changed into a smart black dress with a white lace pinny tied around her ample waist. The white lace headpiece which Edwina insisted she wore when serving dinner had slipped sideways making her look slightly tipsy, and brought sly grins to the faces of Victoria and Nigel. Luckily Agnes didn’t see them, or she wouldn’t have thought twice about telling them off. ‘I’m all to pot, tonight, so would one of yer serve the soup while I go and make sure the potatoes don’t burn?’

‘Really!’ Edwina tutted. ‘You do seem to be disorganised tonight, Agnes.’

The tureen now safely in the middle of the table, Agnes turned on her mistress. ‘If yer didn’t insist on me getting meself all dolled up like a dog’s dinner, I wouldn’t have had to leave the dinner to cook itself.’ She looked pretty formidable with her hands on her hips and an ‘I dare you’ expression on her chubby face. ‘I’ve only got one pair of bleedin’ hands, so
it’s
up to you. Serve the soup yerself or take a chance on yer dinner being burned.’