A Winter Bride (28 page)

‘Yes. I do love her.’

‘Didn’t you love me?’

‘I thought I did. We really just got married because May arranged it. It was easier than not getting married.’

Nell said she supposed that was true and nodded sadly.

Alistair stood up, put on his coat. ‘I have to pick up Carol and get back to work.’

‘Of course.’

‘If you want to get in touch,’ he told her, ‘you’d better do it through my office. Carol and I are moving. She doesn’t want to live in the flat we shared. She’s after a fresh start.’

Nell asked where they were going.

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know yet, but it’ll be somewhere with a garden for Katy.’ He took his wallet from his pocket. ‘I’m assuming you don’t have any money.’

‘Everything was in that account.’

He gave her thirty pounds. ‘That’s all I have on me.’

‘My wages amounted to a lot more than that.’

‘Nell,
I
don’t owe you anything. My mother does. This is to help you out.’

‘You’ll owe me alimony when we divorce.’

‘True, but it won’t be much. We’ve only been married for just over a year. We don’t own a house or have children together. I paid our rent. And you earned your own living so you weren’t dependent on me.’

Numbly, Nell took the money he offered. She’d need it. She had her parents’ rent to pay, and there was no food in the house.

All Carol’s mum could say was, ‘Poor Nell.’

‘It just happened,’ said Carol, defensively. ‘We didn’t plan it. In fact, we didn’t want it to happen. But it did.’

‘That girl has just lost her mother and now her father and you do this to her. How do you think she feels?’

‘Pretty bad,’ said Carol, meekly. ‘But you don’t understand. You met Dad, fell in love, married him and had me. You were lucky.’

‘Oh, was I?’ Margaret said that wasn’t the way of things at all. ‘We worked at our marriage, and made it what it is today. You ran away from yours. And took up with your best friend’s husband.’

‘I love him and he loves me. That’s all there is to it.’

Margaret snorted. She wondered if she should tell her daughter the truth about her real father and how, after his death, she’d spent her life feeling grateful towards the gentle, considerate man who’d rescued her from disgrace. She would never have left him or hurt him. Besides, love of a kind had come in time. No, she thought, I can’t tell her. There’s too much going on right now. Later, she decided, knowing that later wouldn’t ever come.

‘He’s wonderful,’ said Carol. ‘I didn’t know a man could be the way he is. He cares for me. He helps in the house. He adores Katy. He takes her out so I can have a rest. Johnny never did anything like that.’

‘What does he think of all this?’ asked Margaret.

‘He’s gone to Australia. I’ll get a divorce eventually. He’s just glad to get away.’

Margaret snorted again. She went to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

It always helped in dramatic moments to do something, anything. Carol picked up Katy, slung her onto her hip and followed her. ‘Alistair took me out to buy some clothes. He chose them for me. A suit with a checked waistcoat that makes me look smart, and a summer dress in plain dark blue that I wouldn’t even have looked at. Not too much colour, he told me. And he’s right. He knows about being stylish.’

‘He knows about making you look like the sort of woman he wants to be seen around with,’ said Margaret. ‘What’s wrong with the way you dress?’

‘He thinks it’s a little cheap. And he took me to a foreign film. I didn’t want to go but it was wonderful. He’s given me books to read. I’d never read books before but now I’ve read
Bonjour Tristesse
and
Catcher in the Rye
. They’re really good. I can discuss them with him. He’s helping me expand my mind.’

Margaret poured boiling water into the teapot. ‘Well, if there’s any mind that needs expanding, it’s yours.’

‘I’m going to go to night school. I’ll do English and History and probably French. Then, once I’ve passed my exams, I’ll apply to university. See, Johnny would never have approved of me doing that.’

Margaret stared at her. ‘University? What about Katy? Who’ll look after her?’

‘She’ll be at school by then. So will the other children. It’s our long-term plan.’

‘Other children?’ Margaret poured two cups of tea.

‘Two,’ said Carol. ‘Alistair wants to have three kids. He thinks that’s a proper family.’

Margaret felt a stab of regret. She’d wanted more children. It hadn’t happened. ‘They won’t all fit into that flat,’ she said.

‘Oh, we’ll have a big house by then. One with a garden. We’re looking for somewhere now. Alistair knows exactly how it will look – big lamps, a couple of sofas and rugs on polished floor.’

‘Is that what
you
want?’

‘Now that he’s told me about it, yes. I’d never have thought of it.’ Carol said she was happy. ‘Happier than I’ve ever been.’

‘I’m glad for you, love. I just hope it works out and that you know what you’re doing.’

‘I do. Alistair really, really cares. He’s opening up a new world to me. I’m going to be a whole new person.’

‘I can see that. I don’t see what was wrong with the old Carol, though. I liked her.’

‘I’ll still be me,’ said Carol, ‘but I’ll know more. I intend to be the woman Alistair wants me to be. That’ll make me happy.’

Margaret shrugged and said happy was the thing to be. Then added quietly, ‘poor Nell,’ though she thought ‘poor Carol’ might be more appropriate.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Crystal Glasses

‘You’ve lost weight.’ Carol looked at Nell, a piercing head-to-toe glare.

‘You haven’t.’ Nell was pleased to note Carol was, in fact, putting it on.

‘It’s the cooking,’ said Carol. ‘I’ve been experimenting and all the tasting you do as you go along – not to mind the actual eating – takes its toll. But Alistair likes me this way.’

‘Well, that’s all you want,’ said Nell.

She’d come to pick up her remaining clothes.

‘I’ll take my stuff and leave you in peace,’ she said. ‘You won’t want to have to take any of my belongings with you when you move.’

She headed for the bedroom, but Carol stopped her.

‘I moved your things. They’re in the spare room.’

Nell sneaked a swift peek into the main bedroom as she passed. It was different, and much sexier than before. There was a new eiderdown on the bed, sheets Nell hadn’t seen before and matching lamps either side of the bed. ‘Didn’t take you long to make your mark,’ she said.

Carol shrugged. ‘Didn’t like it before. It reminded me of you.’

‘Thanks for that,’ said Nell.

Carol was embarrassed. ‘I didn’t mean that I didn’t like it. Just I don’t want to be thinking of you when I’m in bed.’

‘With Alistair?’

Carol didn’t answer that.

Nell gathered her clothes from the wardrobe in the small bedroom at the back of the flat. She shoved them into her suitcase and headed for the front door.

‘Won’t you stay and talk?’ said Carol. ‘Have a cup of coffee.’

‘Why? Have you got new cups you want to show off?’

Carol shook her head. ‘I just think we ought to talk.’

‘What about? Are you going to give me handy hints on seducing other women’s husbands?’

Carol said there was no need to be like that.

‘Isn’t there? said Nell. ‘Isn’t this what always happens? You’ve always copied me. You’ve always wanted what I had. You lost your own husband so you took mine.’

‘It wasn’t planned. It just happened. We didn’t mean to hurt you.’

‘And that excuses you both? Nell sniffed, held her head high and said she hadn’t been hurt. ‘Anyway, I’m grateful. You’ve set me free to go my own way and … start a new life somewhere else if I want.’

‘Where?’ Carol scoffed.

Nell said the first place that came into her head. ‘London,’ It was as much a surprise to her as it was to Carol. It had only this moment popped into her head. ‘There’s lots going on there. The Beatles live there. There are all sorts of fascinating shops and galleries. I’ll find my way, get a job and when I’m on my feet I’ll get a flat. So don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know how I’m getting on so when you inevitably copy me and go off to London on your own, you’ll be aware of any pitfalls.’ She picked up her suitcase and stomped out of the door. And not a tear fell till she was round the corner and out of sight.

At home that night, she sat wrapped in blankets. She lacked the energy to light a fire. She cursed her luck. She’d lost everything. Her life had crumbled to nothing while she wasn’t looking. How could this have happened?

She’d been pursuing an opportunity. Who wouldn’t have done the same? She might have been manager of a restaurant in town. She’d have had smart clothes and an office of her own. She’d have been making good money – if May had paid her.

May had once told her never to regret anything. ‘Life’s too short. What you’ve done, you’ve done. Don’t regret, don’t apologise and don’t complain. Just move on.’

Nell, however, was awash with regret. She should have listened to her mother. Don’t go to the Locarno. Well, she’d been right there. If I’d never gone to the Locarno, I wouldn’t have met Alistair or any Rutherford and this wouldn’t have happened to me, Nell thought. I’d have married someone else and I’d be happy.

She didn’t regret meeting Annie, but wished she’d taken more interest in her at the time. The woman seemed interesting and astute. Nell cringed to think of herself wafting about the restaurant, showing people to their seats, laughing at their feeble jokes and bringing them bottles of wine. ‘Margaux is an excellent choice, sir. It’s bold and full bodied. Just the thing to go with your steak au poivre.’ Yet she’d never drunk the stuff herself, and wouldn’t be able to distinguish it from a glass of Vimto. Pretentious cow, she derided herself.

She couldn’t bear to think about her mother and father. Bringing them to mind was like touching an open wound, checking if it still hurt. ‘Oh,’ she cried out every time. She had an unfinished relationship with her parents. All the things she should have said and done to show her love for them remained unsaid and undone. She should have been kinder. It was guilt she’d have to live with.

‘Married in January’s hoar and rime, widowed you’ll be before your time,’ her mother had warned. And Nell had mocked her. Well, Nancy had been full of such sayings. Rhymes about sneezing:
One’s a wish, two’s a kiss, three’s a disappointment, four’s a letter, five’s something better and six is a appointment
. There were rhymes about haircuts:
Best never enjoyed if Sunday shorn. And likewise leave out Monday. Cut Thursday and you’ll never grow rich, likewise on a Saturday. But live long if shorn on a Tuesday, and best of all is Friday
. And rhymes about thunder, how did it go again:
Sunday was an omen of death of a learned man, judge or writer. Monday was the death of a woman. Tuesday was the sign of plenty of grain. Wednesday was the death of harlots or news of bloodshed. Thursday plenty of sheep, cattle and corn. Friday the death of some great man or battle. Saturday forebode pestilence or illness
. There were so many of them; Nell wondered where her mother had learned them all. At her own mother’s knee most likely. These verses probably went back through the generations to the beginnings of her family. Nell knew it was her duty to hand them on to her children, should she ever have any.

Well, the one about the winter bride seemed to be true. Not that she was widowed, but she might as well be. Most likely the rhyme appeared in the dark times before divorce.
Marry when January cruel winds doth send, and your husband will sleep with your best friend
. There was a new one to add to the list. She’d definitely teach her children that.

Where would she be when they came along? She didn’t know, but she’d told Carol on the spur on the moment that she was going to London to start a new life and now the idea had taken root. Going away, suitcase in hand, to a new place, to breathe new air and mix with new faces seemed like the thing to do. Only, all she had to her name was thirty pounds. It wasn’t much to cover her expenses.

Two days later, the parcel came. Nell opened it and read the note:
A little something to make amends
. It wasn’t signed but Nell recognised May’s dreadful scrawl. Nell remembered thinking when she first saw it that a good pen with a broad nib might help.

She dug into the parcel, pulled out something tightly wrapped in newspaper. It was a gold-rimmed crystal glass. The box contained five others – May’s treasures. Nell laid them out on the kitchen table. ‘Glasses, I don’t want glasses. I don’t even like them. What good are they to me?’ She picked one up and threw it at the wall. ‘Go to hell, May.’

When she’d calmed down, she took the remaining five to the pawnbroker. He held one glass to the light, pinged it with his finger, swore it wasn’t real crystal and offered her fifteen pounds for the lot. Nell refused. They must be worth more than that. Why would May have treated them with such reverence if they weren’t?

In the antique shop –
antiquities bought and sold
, it boasted in the window – the man behind the counter looked bored when Nell walked in carrrying her box. However, she noticed the glee that flickered momentarily across his face when he lifted out a glass. He turned it over in his hands. ‘Georgian,’ he said. ‘Very nice. Lovely, in fact.’ He held it out to Nell. ‘Beautiful vermicular collar and conical foot. Do you have the full set?’

She told him no, she only had five.

‘Pity, I could offer you a lot more if you had six. Still, I’ll give you eighty pounds for what you have.’

Nell smiled. She knew that pawnbroker had been trying to cheat her. I’m a lot smarter these days, she told herself. Not so trusting. She told the dealer she’d take his money.

‘Good girl. I knew you were sharp. I could see you wouldn’t take any kind of nonsense offer.’ He opened his till, withdrew eight ten-pound notes and handed them to Nell. He wished her a good day and watched her leave the shop. Then he unpacked all the glasses. ‘Oh my God, you beauties. You lovely, lovely things.’ They were perfect. No chips, no scratches. They had been loved. He could easily sell them separately for over a hundred pounds each or, perhaps, eight hundred for the lot. ‘Nice,’ he said.