Family Drama 4 E-Book Bundle (76 page)

Patsy had never said anything but it must be obvious even to her that he wanted nothing to do with her. He kept out of her way, ignoring her if they were together in the same room. Dottie had been careful not to make a sound last night in case it frightened her, but the child was no fool. Poor little girl. To lose her mother was bad enough, but to come here to this was even worse.
In her heart of hearts, although Dottie knew it wasn’t her fault, she somehow felt responsible.

What was she going to do? She didn’t need to look in her handbag to know that her purse was empty bar a few coppers. She had nothing. Not a penny. The money Mariah Fitzgerald gave her for making the curtains had gone on clothes and toys for Patsy. Oh God, what was she going to do …?

She began what she was sure would be a fruitless search in every handbag and every pocket. Her coat pocket and an old jacket yielded five and eleven pence ha’penny. In a bag she hadn’t used since Aunt Bessie’s funeral, she found a ten-shilling note. There was sixpence in her apron pocket and in another apron, one she hadn’t worn for ages, she found the letter Reg had written to Sandy. She’d slipped it in there the night that Patsy had arrived. She would read it later.

It was while she was looking through every pocket that she could think of that she came across the torn pieces of Peaches’ letter in another apron. Not the bit with the address on that she’d written down last night. This was the envelope Reg had said Peaches had torn up and shoved back through the letterbox. She sat on the bed again and stared at it.

A tear rolled down Dottie’s cheek and she sighed. She blew her nose and stared again at the envelope. How long ago had she posted this? She studied the stamp and that’s when it struck her. There was no frank. She turned it over and pieced the envelope together again. There was nothing on the back either! The letter had never even been posted. She frowned. It
must
have been. She remembered now, she’d put it behind the clock and Reg said he was going right past the post box. Perhaps the postman who was supposed to stamp it missed … or more likely it had never been posted at all. Her hands were trembling and she could feel the anger rising in her again. Peaches had never even received this letter. How
could
he? How could Reg do this to her? Sylvie said she had sent letters which Dottie
obviously hadn’t received. So it must be true. Reg had been interfering with her mail for some time.

She took out the other letter, the one Reg had written to Sandy, and turned it over in her hands. It was signed ‘all my love, Reg’. Almost immediately Dottie realised it was a love letter and she felt slightly intrusive reading such a private correspondence.

My own true love …

She stopped reading and caught her breath.
My own true love,
she read again.

Dottie’s eyes filled. Never once in the whole time they’d been married had Reg ever addressed her in such loving terms. Reg must have loved Sandy very much.

    
I can’t stop thinking about you, my darling. I have to see you again. Eric says he’ll look out for you if we go overseas. We shall soon be on the move again, but I’m not allowed to say where. As soon as I can, I will write to you again. Please don’t forget me, Sandy. When this war is over, we will get married. I shall never feel about anyone else the way I feel about you. Every night I lie awake remembering our last night together. Darling girl, I love you with all my heart. Take care of yourself, all my love, Reg.

Such a pretty letter. Moved by its tenderness, Dottie wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

She needed to talk to someone, but who? What a mess. Where could she start? Dottie held her arms tightly around her middle and rocked herself gently. Oh damn you, Reg. Damn you to hell!

Fifteen minutes later, Dottie hurried into the telephone kiosk and telephoned Sylvie. As soon as Dottie pressed button B, Robin answered.

‘I’m sorry, Sylvie isn’t here at the moment,’ he said. ‘Can I take a message?’

Dottie chewed her bottom lip anxiously. ‘Do you know when she’ll be back?’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Robin. ‘She’s gone up to London. She’s staying with an old friend.’

Dottie knew what that meant even if Robin didn’t. She was meeting her lover, Bruce.

‘I’ll ring her tomorrow,’ said Dottie.

‘I’m not sure that she’ll be back before the middle of next week,’ said Robin. ‘Her friend is leaving the country.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes,’ said Robin. ‘It was all very sudden. Poor Sylvie was quite upset. They’re very close, you see.’

Dottie hesitated, unsure what to say.

‘Are you sure I can’t help?’ said Robin.

Dottie swallowed hard. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said willing her voice to stay strong. ‘I’ll ring some other time.’

Thirty

It was proving to be difficult trying to contact Sylvie. Dottie’d called three times since the weekend with no luck, and she was beginning to worry. If she had to launch out completely on her own, getting away from here was going to be more difficult than she thought. It was crucial that Sylvie find her a place to stay. Dottie didn’t fancy trudging the streets of a strange town with two suitcases and Patsy in tow, looking for a room to rent. She also needed to ask Sylvie to lend her some money, now that Reg had pinched all her savings.

Dottie inserted four pennies and dialled the number. ‘Hello?’

Sylvie! She was there at last. The pips went and Dottie pushed button B. ‘Sylvie! Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice.’

‘Dottie! Robin said you had rung. Is everything all right? Has something happened?’

‘I want to leave him,’ Dottie said. ‘Can you help Patsy and me find somewhere to live? Somewhere down your way?’

‘Come and stay with us.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Dottie. ‘As soon as he realises I’ve gone, your place will be the first place he’ll look.’

‘All right, darling. Leave it with me.’

The pips went again. ‘I’ve got no more money,’ Dottie cried. ‘I’ll ring at the weekend.’

‘Give me the number of the box,’ cried Sylvie, ‘and I’ll ring you back …’ But already Dottie was listening to the dialling tone.

Dottie had made up her mind that this afternoon after school would be their last with John.

The weather prevented them from going for a walk. It was drizzling. Laura took Patsy into the kitchen to prepare the tea, leaving Dottie and John alone in the sitting room. He came towards her.

‘Careful,’ she cautioned. ‘Your mother …’

His gentle kiss stopped her mouth. Dottie felt a yearning far more powerful than anything she had experienced before. The voice in her head kept telling her no, no, you are a married woman, think of Patsy, think of what this might do to John’s reputation … but her heart was begging him to kiss her again. As she closed her eyes, she felt so alive, so very, very happy.

‘Oh, John,’ she whispered as she lay her hands on the top of his. ‘It’s no use. Can’t you see? We must not let this happen.’

‘I’ve made a lemon drizzle cake this time.’ Laura’s voice in the passageway and the rumbling of the trolley wheels heralded the return of his mother and Patsy.

John went towards the fire and fanned his fingers.

‘Are you cold, dear?’ his mother asked as they crashed into the room. ‘Put some more coal on the fire.’

‘I’m fine,’ he said gently. ‘Here, let me give you a hand with that.’

‘I put the icing on the sponge,’ said Patsy proudly.

Dottie slipped her arm around her shoulder admiringly. ‘And it looks absolutely scrummy.’

While Laura and Patsy arranged the trolley as they wanted it, Dottie glanced over the tops of their heads and smiled at John. He blew her a kiss, making her heart leap and her knees go to jelly again.

‘After tea,’ Laura was saying, ‘you’ll have to go up in the attic and get some of your old toys down for Patsy.’

‘Mother,’ John laughed, ‘I don’t think a little girl would be remotely interested in playing with tin soldiers.’

‘What about the draughts board?’ said Laura, piercing a crumpet with the toasting fork. ‘And Ludo. We could join in with that.’ She handed the fork to Patsy. ‘Now hold this in front of the fire, like so, and when it’s brown, we’ll do the other side.’

Patsy sat cross-legged in front of the fire and before long the delicious smell of toasted crumpet filled the room.

Later on, after they’d all done the washing up, they left Laura to rest by the fire and the three of them climbed up to the attic.

‘It’s an age since I was up here,’ said John switching on the light. ‘I can imagine it’s pretty disgusting.’

Considering it was a dumping ground, it was surprisingly orderly. A few cobwebs were draped between the boxes and old furniture stacked around the edges, but it was obvious it wasn’t as dirty as John’d imagined it would be. Patsy spotted his old rocking horse at the back and immediately made a beeline for it. Dottie laughed aloud as she sat astride it crying, ‘Gee up, gee up, you good for nothing old donkey.’

John began a thorough search. ‘The boardgames should be somewhere in these boxes.’

Dottie picked over a few things. They held no memories for her, but it pleased her to think that these were all part of John’s life. She tried to picture him as a small boy playing with his fort with its working drawbridge, or reading the Enid Blyton
Sunny Stories
she’d found tucked away in a box of soft toys. She wondered what he might have looked like … a little boy with scuffed knees and a runny nose. He must have cuddled that squashy teddy bear when he went to sleep at night …

‘Can I have a go, Uncle John?’ Patsy’s voice brought her back to the here and now. She was holding up a single roller skate.

‘You can have them if we can find the other one,’ he laughed.

Their search became a little more earnest, but Dottie settled down on an old chaise longue with a photograph album. She opened it and there he was. She recognised him straight away. A small boy aged about ten, in big Wellington boots, and a serious
expression. He was holding a fish in front of him. The caption underneath read, ‘Freshwater trout caught in the Adur, 8th April 1930’. She also found a picture of a family group. She had no idea who the people with him were, apart from Laura of course, but she didn’t really care. She only had eyes for John, aged about five, sitting on his mother’s lap in the centre of the picture.

‘Here it is!’ cried Patsy. She held up another roller skate. ‘Can I have a go now?’

‘Not today,’ he said. ‘It’s too dark now and it’s wet.’

Dottie ran her finger over the photograph of John and a gnawing attraction engulfed her. She kissed the end of her fingers and placed them over his face.

‘And here’s the Ludo,’ John cried. ‘And a couple of jigsaw puzzles you might like to do.’

As Patsy clambered back downstairs with her trophies, John wandered over to Dottie. ‘I wondered what you were looking at. Heavens above, I haven’t looked at those in years.’ He began pointing out some of the people. ‘That’s my grandmother. She died at the beginning of the war. Killed while doing canteen duty for the WRVS. And that’s my friend Derek. He and I used to bike all over the country in the summer hols,’ he chuckled. ‘I got so saddle-sore, I couldn’t sit down for a week.’

She smiled. Looking up at him, she noticed he had a cobweb complete with its tiny owner on the top of his head and reached up and lifted it away. His head was so close to hers she could feel his breath on her cheek. He smelled of crumpets and tea.

‘Oh, Dottie,’ he said hoarsely.

She turned her head away and stood up. ‘No, John, please don’t.’

He caught her arm. ‘Why do you never talk about Reg?’

‘It’s complicated.’

She should tell him now. She should say, ‘I found this letter … I’ve found out something about Reg, but I’m frightened the authorities will take Patsy away from me … And I’m having
Reg’s baby.’ She tried to tell him but her mouth wouldn’t work. Instead, she looked at him with a stricken expression and felt her knees giving way.

‘Dottie? What is it? What’s wrong?’

Her throat tightened. She took a deep breath. ‘It’s no use. I must go.’

‘All I’m asking is a few moments with you.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, John,’ she said, doing her best to be firm. ‘I’m married. Think of the scandal … your career …’

‘I don’t give a stuff about all that,’ he said fiercely.

They heard a footfall on the stairs and Patsy called, ‘Are you coming?’

‘We’ll be right there, Patsy,’ she called. She held his gaze for a second and then pulled herself away. Replacing the album in the box, she stood up and saw Patsy’s head appearing over the edge of the floor.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked. ‘We’ve set up the Ludo and we’re waiting to play.’

‘Sorry, love,’ Dottie smiled. ‘I got carried away looking at some old photographs. We’re coming now.’

Patsy turned around and raced back down, her shoes clattering noisily on the bare wooden stairs. John caught Dottie’s hand and swung her back into his arms. Gently but firmly, he kissed her. Her lips parted and his tongue filled the space between, sending her pulse racing and flooding her whole body with sensual desire. He lowered her onto the chaise longue and caressed her tenderly, kissing her eyelids, her mouth, her neck, her bare shoulder and finally opening a button at the top of her blouse to kiss the top of her breast.

‘Dottie, oh Dottie …’

And Dottie melted in his arms.

She must stop him … this mustn’t go any further … she had to stop him … But how could she? This was her moment. Up here among the flotsam and jetsam of John’s former life, she
and he were together at last. She would remember this precious moment to the day she died. She was aware of the old boxes, a dressmaker’s dummy, a tennis racquet hanging from a nail driven into the rafters. Aunt Bessie once told her that when she loved someone, it would be truly wonderful, she would give herself willingly and with passion. Every part of her body was aching for him now. His strong arms pulled her close as his mouth covered hers again. Releasing her, he exposed her breast completely. Her nipple was hard as his mouth went over it and Dottie moaned with pleasure.