Bye Bye Love (31 page)

S
CARLETT
couldn’t sleep at all. She was dead tired, but the events of the day before churned around in her head, giving her no rest. The questioning and the procedure of the inquest had been bad enough, but Corinne’s shock appearance had been even worse. Her face still hurt from where she had hit her, but that was nothing to the emotional pain. It made her realise that while Corinne had been safely the other side of the Channel, a small irrational part of her had dared to hope.

‘They’re engaged,’ she said to herself as she lay on the hard camp-bed with light from the street lamps coming in through the uncurtained window. ‘Their parents are backing them in buying this place.’

Jonathan was committed to his new love and his new project. However well they had been getting on these last difficult days, however sweet and kind he had been to her, however good he was with her children, still he belonged to Corinne. Scarlett groaned out loud. It made her feel quite ill with jealousy.

She tried not to think about it, to calm herself and let sleep take over, but there was nothing on which she could rest her mind. Whichever way she looked on her life, she met with problems. Where was she going to live? How was she going to organise the funeral? How could she work if she wasn’t within walking distance of the Harringtons’? When should she go and make her peace with the Harringtons, who were very put out that she had not gone to live with them after the fire? Top of the list was the funeral. She wasn’t even sure if anyone would come. She had told her father’s employers at The Oaks, but she was pretty sure they wouldn’t attend. She was absolutely sure that the Harringtons wouldn’t. Maybe Mrs Jenkins and some of her old neighbours would come, and almost certainly Bert and Nell would. If she could get in touch with Brenda, then she would, but she didn’t even know where Brenda was living now. But if these people did come, what would she do about giving them tea or drinks and sandwiches afterwards? She couldn’t possibly invite them back here to a half-furnished flat above a building site. It was so sad, so very different from her mother’s funeral. Then everyone had been welcome back at the Red Lion afterwards. Now she had few friends and her poor father hadn’t any. If only there was some family to support her.

Even before the funeral, she had to start looking for somewhere else to live. Jonathan had insisted that she waited till afterwards, but after yesterday’s events, she knew she had to start right away. She owed it to Jonathan.

Some time in the early hours of the morning, Scarlett gave up on sleep and got up. She went down to the living area, meaning to make a cup of tea, but instead found herself going on down to the ground floor. The old kitchen had been pulled out and the rewiring was completed. The plasterers had finished in the kitchen and moved on to the restaurant area, while the tilers were covering the kitchen walls with white tiles. Scarlett had never seen so much money being spent all at once on a place, and this was only the beginning.

Now, in the quiet of the night, Scarlett stood and imagined the echoing space full of customers with a happy buzz of conversation all around. She saw herself in the midst of it, taking orders, pouring drinks, discussing the food. She knew she would be good at it. She knew that she and Jonathan would make an excellent team. Together, they could make a real success of this place. Better than anything Jonathan and Corinne could do. But without Corinne there would be no finance from her parents, and Jonathan’s parents wouldn’t be very happy putting money into something that Scarlett was concerned with. No Corinne, no restaurant, and the restaurant was Jonathan’s dream.

She padded to the window and looked out. Far out in the deep water channel, a ship was making its way down-river. She could see its lights moving in the dark. It was time she moved too, for Jonathan’s sake.

Much to her surprise, Jonathan arrived as usual the next morning. What was more, he was on his own.

‘I wasn’t sure if I’d see you today,’ Scarlett said.

‘More reason than ever to come, after the way Corinne behaved,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what got into her. She was like a wild beast. I was shocked.’

Scarlett knew exactly what had got into her, but didn’t say so.

‘It was a bit of a shock for me too,’ she said.

‘I’m so sorry, Scarlett. After having to go to the inquest, then to have her attack you like that—’

That small spark of hope flared once more. He was concerned for her and ashamed of Corinne. But it was nothing, the situation was still the same.

‘It’s all right,’ Scarlett told him. ‘And I’m the one who’s sorry. What happened when you got home?’

‘Nothing much.’

It was obvious that he was lying to protect her.

‘Oh, come on, I can’t believe that. What did your parents say?’

‘They weren’t happy,’ Jonathan admitted. ‘But I said to them what I said to Corinne. You’re to stay as long as you need to.’

Scarlett could just imagine what the Blanes had said to that. They had never liked her. Well, at least Mrs Blane had never liked her. Mr Blane had liked her far too much.

‘I’ve caused you so much trouble,’ she said. ‘But I won’t hang around any longer. I’ll go to the council offices today and see what they can do for me.’

The children had heard Jonathan’s voice and came scurrying down the stairs to see him. Joanne pulled on his hand and Simon held up his arms to be picked up. Jonathan gave them both some attention while Scarlett made tea, then he told them to go and play.

‘Your Mummy and I have got things to talk about.’

Once again, they sat opposite each other at the table in the window. Jonathan insisted that Scarlett didn’t have to go straight away.

‘At least wait till after the funeral.’

‘No, it’s best that I get things started,’ Scarlett said. ‘And there’s something else I’m going to do today. I’m going to see a solicitor and find out about getting a divorce. I’m neither one thing nor the other at the moment. I’m married, but my husband’s got no intention of ever coming back or taking any interest in the children, so he’s hardly a husband at all. At least once I’ve got a divorce I’ll be a free woman.’

Even as she said it, she felt a new energy. She was going to stop being pushed around by events and take charge of her life.

Jonathan was very still, staring at her as if trying to read her mind.

‘A free woman,’ he repeated.

‘Yes.’

‘You sound very…er…very calm about it,’ he said carefully.

‘Yes, I am calm about it,’ Scarlett said, though she felt anything but calm. ‘I’ve made a decision. It’s always better to make a decision and not flounder around wondering what to do.’

‘So—you don’t love him any more?’

All her good intentions of the night before went out of the window. She had to tell him. She had to.

‘I never did love him,’ she said. ‘Not the way I love you.’

There was a long pause, while Jonathan took in the fact that she had said ‘love’ and not ‘loved’.

‘I…see…’ he said slowly.

‘So I think it’s best to finish it as soon as possible,’ she said.

‘Yes, you’re absolutely right,’ Jonathan agreed.

Scarlett wished she had taken more trouble with her appearance. She must look as washed-out as she felt. She was wearing one of the baggy dresses that had been given to her, she had no make-up on and although she had brushed her hair it was just falling over her shoulders any old how. She didn’t stand much comparison with Corinne, who always looked immaculate.

‘It was wrong almost from the start. With Ricky, I mean,’ she said. ‘The only good things to come out of it were the children. I don’t regret having them. But everything else was a disaster. It was never like it was with you and me. With you it was like…like you were the missing part of me. We thought the same thoughts. I could say anything to you. I think when you were away I went a bit mad. But that was all it was with Ricky— just a passing madness. Not the real thing at all.’

‘I see,’ Jonathan said again.

His face was very still, as if there was too much going on inside his head for any reaction to show through.

Scarlett took a deep breath. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure Jonathan could see it.

‘I really mucked everything up, didn’t I?’ she said.

Jonathan didn’t answer directly.

‘I was very angry with you for ages,’ he admitted. ‘I thought that as I had waited for you, you should have done the same for me.’

Shame and regret flooded through her. It was all her fault.

‘You’re right. I should of,’ she whispered.

‘But I didn’t realise—not till Graham pointed it out—that Corinne looks a lot like you. So I suppose I was still searching for you.’

Scarlett could hardly breathe.

‘And—and what did you find?’ she asked.

‘Just someone who looks like you.’ His words came out very slowly, as if he was thinking it out as he went along. ‘But, beyond the looks, she’s very different. There’s no one quite like you.’

Scarlett swallowed. The air between them was so charged that she was terrified of saying the wrong thing and spoiling it all for ever. What she wanted to ask was—who did he like best? But she couldn’t bear to hear the wrong answer.

‘In what way is she different?’ she asked.

Jonathan ran his hands over his head and sighed.

‘She’s had a very protected life. She’s an only child, she’s always lived with her parents in the same apartment, she went to a nice school and church on Sundays and dancing lessons and all the rest of it, then she worked in her father’s shop. She’s never had to face up to things on her own like you.’

‘She’s very lucky,’ Scarlett said.

Part of her felt an overwhelming envy of such a protected existence, but the strong part was proud of how she had survived. When it came down to it, she didn’t want to be Corinne. She didn’t want to be anyone but herself.

‘So now,’ Jonathan said, ‘she expects me to protect her in the same way. Which is what husbands should do, of course.’

‘Yes,’ Scarlett said, thinking of Ricky. Again, Corinne was very lucky. Maybe that was how it worked. Those who expected to be looked after got what they wanted. Those who could shift for themselves carried on doing just that. ‘It must be very nice to have someone to rely on like that.’

She hoped that didn’t sound bitter.

Jonathan was sitting with his elbows on the table and his hands at the back of his head. He looked at her from under his eyebrows.

‘It works both ways,’ he said.

Scarlett felt utterly crushed. So that was it. He felt he could rely on Corinne to stick by him. Nothing she could say could undo the fact that she had strayed while his back had been turned.

‘Yes,’ she said in a very small voice. ‘You’re right.’

She couldn’t bear to look at him. When Simon came into the room crying from a bumped knee, she took him on her lap and curled round him, kissing his head. She heard Jonathan get up.

‘I’ve got to go,’ he said.

She could imagine why. Corinne couldn’t have wanted him to come here by himself this morning.

‘Right,’ she said, still not looking at him.

His footsteps retreated down the stairs. She heard him talking to the builders, then saying goodbye to them. Suddenly, she knew she couldn’t leave it at that. She set Simon down on the floor.

‘Stay there,’ she told him. ‘Mummy won’t be long.’

She raced down the stairs and through the restaurant area, catching up with Jonathan at the open door.

‘Jonathan, wait!’

He turned to look at her. His face was strained and tired, but something lit his eyes as she ran towards him. Scarlett caught his hands in hers.

‘I’ve got to say this or I’ll burst,’ she said. ‘I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven. I know it’s far too late but—I love you, Jonathan. I’ve always loved you. There’ll never be anyone else for me but you.’

Jonathan closed his eyes briefly. ‘Oh, Scarlett—’

For a dreadful moment, she thought he was going to say that yes, it was far too late. But then he opened his eyes again and gazed deep into hers, pulling her towards him. With a slow, sweet inevitability, their faces came closer, their lips met, their bodies moulded together. Deeply, passionately, they kissed, wiping out the years of pain and separation and loss, reaching back to a simpler time when all that mattered was that they had each other. For a few breathless moments of soaring happiness, the world disappeared. There was just the two of them, sealed in a bubble of delight.

Scarlett didn’t hear the car draw up. But she did hear the angry voices. Jonathan’s lips parted from hers, though he still held her tight.

‘Oh, God,’ he breathed.

Dragged back from her dream, Scarlett looked towards the road. Mr and Mrs Blane and Corinne were getting out of the car and advancing on them.

T
HE
air was full of threats and angry faces. Jonathan felt Scarlett press closer to him and tightened his grip around her waist.

‘I knew it! I knew it!’ Corinne was screaming in French. ‘How could you do this to me, Jonathan? I’m your wife-to-be. We’re going to get married!’

‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at?’ his father demanded.

‘Put that grasping little gold-digger down, you stupid boy!’ his mother yelled. They advanced on him like a pack of baying hounds. Corinne’s face was contorted with hatred. He could see that she was about to attack Scarlett.

‘Come inside,’ he said above the hubbub.

With Scarlett still by his side, he led the way back through the restaurant area, past the gaping plasterers and up the stairs to the living room. The children stared at them all, wide-eyed and wary. Their small supply of second-hand toys were scattered all over the room.

‘Look at all this!’ his mother said. ‘They’ve taken the place over. Like a pack of rats. Not just her, it’s her brats as well. What’s the matter with you, Jonathan? Can’t you see what’s happening? I never did trust her. Right from the start, I could see that she was trouble. Out for everything she could get.’

‘Shut up, Mum. You don’t know anything about it,’ Jonathan told her.

Both his parents spoke together.

‘Don’t you talk to your mother like that.’

‘I know what I can see with my own eyes—’

‘You lied to me!’ Corinne cut across them. ‘You said she wasn’t your mistress. “Oh, no, she’s just a friend. I’m still living with my parents,” you said. You made me believe you. Liar!’

The two children hung onto their mother and began to whimper with fear.

‘I don’t like the nasty lady,’ Joanne wailed.

Scarlett slid out of Jonathan’s grasp and bent to pick Simon up. She swung him onto her hip and laid a protective hand on Joanne’s head as the little girl clung to her leg.

‘You! You get out of here and take your horrible urchins with you before I—I
eat
them!’ Corinne snarled at Scarlett.

The children screamed in terror and clutched even tighter at their mother.

‘For God’s sake, Corinne—’ Jonathan said.

‘It’s all right. I won’t let her touch you,’ he heard Scarlett say.

Any minute now, it was going to get physical.

‘Look, I think it’s better if you do leave. This is my mess. I’ll sort it out,’ he said to Scarlett.

‘But I don’t want—’ Scarlett began.

‘Yes, go! Go and never come back!’ Corinne shouted.

Jonathan tried to keep calm, tried to ignore all the shouting going on and just concentrate on Scarlett. He kept his voice steady and reasonable.

‘No, Scarlett. Go now, please. It’s only making everything worse.’

He could see that the children were terrified.

For a long moment she stood there, defying him. But her children’s sobs made the decision for her.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘Come along, you two. We’re leaving these animals to get on with it.’

She left the room with her head held high.

Scarlett had managed to leave the scene of battle with dignity. But it took some doing. By the time she reached the downstairs kitchen area, she was choking back sobs. The tilers, who were openly listening to the drama, looked at her with sympathy. They liked Scarlett. She made them tea and didn’t mind a bit of backchat.

‘Got a spot of bother, love?’

‘Something like that,’ Scarlett muttered.

‘That’s the Guv’nor from the Trafalgar, ain’t it? You don’t want to tangle with him, love. Nasty bit of work, he is.’

‘I know,’ Scarlett said.

Oh, yes, she knew all about Jonathan’s father. He’d got her turned out on the street before. Now history was repeating itself.

‘You need any help?’ One of the men stood up, scribing knife in hand.

It was tempting, but what could they do? Just going in with some muscle wouldn’t do any good. Jonathan may have kissed her, but he hadn’t said he loved her. And now he had told her to leave.

Scarlett shook her head.

‘No. Thanks all the same,’ she told them and turned to the children, who were both still crying with fear.

She led them through to the yard at the back, where she kept the trusty pram in a dilapidated shed. She heaved Simon inside it and pushed round the alleyway to the sea front pavement. It was a dull autumn day with a brisk easterly wind blowing along the Promenade. She realised that they all had only their indoor things on. Simon was all right with a blanket over his knees and the hood up, but Joanne started to shiver. Scarlett took off her cardigan and put it on the little girl, rolling up the sleeves and tying a hair ribbon round it to make a belt.

‘Where are we going, Mummy?’ Joanne asked.

Scarlett had no idea. Perhaps they ought to go up to the council offices straight away. Looking as they did at the moment—a scruffy trio of waifs and strays with no money and nothing but what they stood up in—surely they would get some sort of accommodation? But she couldn’t face it, not quite yet.

She crossed over the road and looked westwards, past the gasworks and the Golden Mile to where the pier strode out across the mud-flats to the deep water. She remembered that first day when she and Jonathan had gone up the pier. She had just lost her mother and her home then, now she had lost her father and was about to lose her temporary home. In seven years, despite all the hard work, she hadn’t managed to get very far. The only difference was that then she and Jonathan had only just found each other and everything was fresh and new and full of possibilities. Now, what she and Jonathan had was coming to an end. The thought of it made her want to howl out loud.

Joanne tugged at her hand. ‘Mummy?’

‘All right,’ Scarlett said automatically.

If she went towards the town, she could call in on the Mancinis. She would be sure of a welcome, warmth, a cup of coffee and drinks and cake for the children. But she didn’t think she could bear to start explaining what was going on to anyone, even lovely motherly Mrs Mancini.

‘Beach! Beach!’ Simon said.

Scarlett looked at him. Poor homeless little thing. She pulled her face into something like a smile.

‘All right, darling, we’ll go to the beach. We’ll walk along to the huts.’

Joanne perked up. ‘Yes! The huts!’ she said.

Scarlett turned her back to the pier and plodded along towards Thorpe Bay. The wind blew through her thin dress and brought her arms and legs up in goosebumps. Scarlett hardly cared. It was all of a piece with how she felt inside. After a while Joanne let go of the pram and started running on ahead. The baggy blue cardigan flapped around her legs. She looked like an urchin. Scarlett felt she was failing her children, letting them grow up in poverty like this. The tears that she had tried to hold back rose and flowed uncontrollably down her face.

Beyond the Halfway House pub, there were gardens instead of buildings alongside the road. Joanne stopped at the top of some stone steps down to the beach.

‘Here, Mummy?’ she called.

‘Yes, go on,’ Scarlett croaked.

She reached under the apron of the pram, pulled out a corner of the sheet and wiped her face and eyes.

‘No cry, Mummy,’ Simon said anxiously.

She parked up by the steps, hauled Simon out and held his hand as he made his way ponderously down to the beach. Once there, he immediately sat down and began running his hands through the sand and pebbles, crowing with pleasure. Under the lee of the promenade wall was a long row of beach huts in ice cream colours, their little wooden steps leading up to miniature verandas. None of them was occupied on this blustery day. Beyond the breakwater, Scarlett could see Joanne waving from the top step of a pink and white hut along the beach.

‘Come on, Mummy! This one’s the prettiest!’

Scarlett pulled Simon up, lifted him over the breakwater and trudged along to join her daughter. She sat on the veranda of Joanne’s chosen hut with her feet on the step and hugged her knees. It was warmer down here, sheltered from the wind.

‘We haven’t got our buckets and spades,’ Joanne complained.

‘Never mind. You can still play houses. And you can dig with your hands. But don’t go out on the mud. I haven’t got a towel or clean socks or anything with me,’ Scarlett told her.

Joanne wandered off to examine the other beach huts, while Simon made growling noises and crawled along pushing the sand in front of him with his hands like a bulldozer. Scarlett clasped her legs and rested her chin on her knees and wondered what was happening back at the flat above the restaurant. What were they all saying? More to the point, what was Jonathan saying? She had a pretty good idea of what his parents and Corinne thought of her.

Where were she and the children going to sleep tonight? If things went the way she feared, she was going to have to throw herself on the mercy of the housing department and, if they didn’t have anything, then she supposed she would have to go and grovel to the Harringtons. She certainly couldn’t afford to go to a bed and breakfast place like the last time she’d been homeless. She could just imagine Mrs Harrington’s reaction to finding them destitute on her doorstep.

She found herself looking longingly at the beach huts. They were no more than sheds on legs really, but she was sure she could make one very homely inside. But even a beach hut was out of her reach.

She sighed deeply. Maybe she should move out of Southend and start again somewhere else. The place hadn’t brought her much luck. And she didn’t think she would be able to bear walking along this part of the sea front ever again if it meant passing the restaurant and knowing that Jonathan was there with Corinne. She should never have phoned him up that morning after the fire. The times they had spent together since then, that window of hope, had only caused trouble for him and made it harder for her to give him up for ever. She hardly dared look ahead, the future seemed so bleak. She thought backwards instead, back to the happy days at the Red Lion, when her mother had still been alive.

‘Fiddle-de-dee,’ her mum always used to say if something went wrong. ‘Now what would Scarlett O’Hara have done?’

What would her namesake have done in the situation she found herself in now? She would not have sat here feeling sorry for herself, that was for sure. She would have got up and done something. Scarlett racked her brains. She didn’t have a Tara to go back home to. All she had was her skills as a pub manager. And then it came to her. Of course! Now that she no longer had her father to consider, she could get herself a live-in job, then she would have an income and a roof over her head. Bert and Nell would give her a good reference. They might even know of an opening. And she could go anywhere. She had no ties now, she didn’t have to stay in Southend. She just had to smarten herself up and slap a smile on her face and convince someone that she was the person they needed. With a surge of energy, she stood up and brushed the sand off her skirt.

‘Scarlett!’

Her heart gave a painful leap. Was it—? She spun round and gazed along the beach in the direction of the steps.

‘Jonathan!’

There he was, running towards her. Scarlett clutched hold of the veranda post of the hut, hardly daring to believe this was happening. Jonathan sprang over the breakwater and dashed up to her.

‘Scarlett, what are you doing hiding down here? I couldn’t find you. It was only when I saw the pram—’

‘I wanted to go somewhere quiet.’

For a breathless moment, they stood looking at each other. Scarlett was still hanging onto the post for dear life. She hardly dared ask the fatal question, but something in his expression gave her courage.

‘What happened?’

He stepped forward and took her hand.

‘There was a lot of shouting—’

‘Yes, yes, I know that—’

‘And Corinne was so hurt—’

A big black gulf opened up, threatening to swallow her. She nodded, unable to answer.

‘—but when it came to it, there was only one thing to do. I told her I was sorry, but I couldn’t spend the rest of my life with her.’

Scarlett stared at him. It took a couple of beats for his words to sink in and make sense.

‘But—the restaurant—what will you do for money?’

‘I’ll sort it out, go to the bank—it doesn’t matter. It can be fixed, somehow. There’s no point in having a nice place if you’re sharing it with the wrong person, and Corinne was the wrong person. It would have been a terrible mistake to go ahead with it—terrible for her as well as for me. Because you’re the right person, Scarlett. You always have been, right from the start. Right from the first moment I saw you. I convinced myself that I loved Corinne, but really there’s never been anyone else but you.’

Scarlett could hardly believe this was happening. Just minutes ago she had nothing, and now—this. She let go of the post and moved into Jonathan’s arms.

‘I loved you from that very first day too,’ she said.

This time there were only the children to interrupt their kiss. Simon hung onto Scarlett’s legs saying, ‘Huggy, huggy!’ and Joanne tried to put her arms round both of them.

‘You’re frozen, darling,’ Jonathan said as their lips parted. He rubbed her bare arms.

‘Not any more,’ Scarlett said, snuggling closer. ‘Not now I’ve got you to keep me warm.’

It felt so right there, being held by him.

Jonathan took off his jacket and slung it round her shoulders.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing to stop us now. Let’s go back to the flat together. Back to our home.’