It Had To Be You (24 page)

‘You’ve obviously put the wind up him,’ said Elsie when they arrived back home that evening.

‘He’s terrified of what Jared will do to him because he’s acted like a monster,’ said Dorothy, yawning.

Maggie glanced up from reading the
School Friend.
‘Perhaps he’ll never come back and our Betty will feel safe here again.’

‘Perhaps she’s happier where she is,’ said Elsie.

‘I’ll find out, shall I?’ said Jared. ‘If you all think you’ll be all right for a couple of days, I’d like to take a trip into the countryside.’

Dorothy suddenly remembered the birthday present she’d asked Mr Ashcroft to make for her brother. ‘I think I’ll take a day off and come with you,’ she said.

‘How much is that doggie in the window?’ sang Betty, as she shovelled more dead leaves onto the bonfire.

‘It amazes me,’ said Emma, leaning on the yard brush, ‘how a song like that can have topped the charts this year.’

‘Well, there are probably robbers around with flashlights that shine in the dark.’ said Betty, smiling across at her half-sister. ‘And Lita Roza wants her lover not to be lonely.’ She took a deep breath of smoky air and coughed. ‘Gosh, it’s great being out in the fresh air in the country,’ she croaked. ‘I just hope that we don’t get any really nasty fog in Liverpool this winter or I’ll end
up with a bad chest. Did you know that Lita Roza is a Liverpudlian? She was the first female artiste to top the charts. It says something about us Liverpudlians as performers, doesn’t it? Frankie Vaughan is another one born in Liverpool, just like me and you.’

‘I know that,’ said Emma, gazing fondly at Betty, relieved to see her so happy. ‘You’ve reminded me, I must get round to visiting the registry office on Gambier Terrace next time I visit you,’ she added.

‘I could do it for you,’ said Betty.

Emma was about to say that she’d enjoy finding the information out for herself when a voice called, ‘Anybody there?’

Emma started and turned to see Dorothy walking across the grass towards them. She was not alone but accompanied by a man who seemed vaguely familiar.

‘I’ve brought a visitor,’ said Dorothy, smiling. ‘Emma, this is my brother, Jared.’

Before Emma could greet him, Betty shot past her and flung herself at him. ‘Oh, I’m so glad you’re home,’ she cried. ‘If only you’d never gone away.’

He hugged her to him and grinned down at her. ‘But I’m back now, so there’s nothing for you to worry about,’ said Jared.

Emma smiled as she watched them, pleased to see Jared Gregory in close-up. She noticed that his
fine-boned face was tanned and just as attractive as Betty had told her, with a straight nose and a firm chin. Suddenly he winked at her and she felt herself grow warm, conscious that his eyes seemed to be taking in her appearance from head to toe in one sweeping glance. She felt a tingle down her spine and was glad she was looking halfway decent in a pair of brown slacks and a Fair Isle jumper that she had knitted herself.

‘I love the smell of a bonfire,’ he said, over Betty’s head. ‘I hope you don’t mind us surprising you like this, but I wanted to see Betty and to meet you, as well.’ He untangled himself from Betty’s embrace and held out a hand. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you, Emma Booth.’

‘I could say the same about you,’ she said, smoothing a hand over her untidy hair and then wiping her hand on the seat of her slacks, before holding it out to him.

Immediately, it was swallowed up in a grip that was strong and firm, if slightly rough-skinned. ‘I’m glad to meet you at last,’ he said. ‘I can still see glimpses of the portrait Uncle William did of you.’

‘W-what portrait?’ she asked, taken aback.

‘The one he painted of you as a toddler,’ said Jared, continuing to hold her hand. ‘I liked your father.’

‘You did?’ she said, delighted. ‘You can’t imagine how that makes me feel.’

‘He was a tolerant man, prepared to put up with having a nosy, overactive nephew in his studio.’

She beamed at him. ‘I never expected this when Betty and Dorothy talked about you. Do come inside. You must be hungry, I’ll get you something to eat.’

‘That’s just what I was hoping you’d say,’ said Jared, gazing down at their hands and slowly releasing his hold on her fingers. ‘I’ve heard all about your cooking … your hotpot, your scones and jams. I couldn’t wait to get here.’

The colour deepened in Emma’s cheeks. ‘You don’t want to believe everything you hear.’ Her eyes twinkled up at him. ‘We all have our off days.’

‘Harrumph!’ said Betty, staring at both of them. ‘I think you’ve forgotten about me. Can I get a look in? I’d like another hug.’

Jared switched his attention to his cousin and held out his arms to her. She went into them and he hugged her and murmured something in her ear that made her smile. Emma felt an unexpected pang of envy.

Dorothy whispered, ‘You can see why he’s popular with the female members of our family, can’t you? He’s just like Dad, doesn’t have a grumpy bone in his body. It’s just so good to have him home and all in one piece.’

‘Let’s go and put the kettle on,’ said Emma.

They went up the garden to the house and Emma
kicked off her old shoes just inside the kitchen and padded across the floor in her stocking feet to deal with the kettle. She washed her hands and asked, ‘What does he know about Betty?’

‘Not all of it. Without Betty confirming my suspicions, I decided to keep quiet about it for now,’ said Dorothy, removing her gloves and holding her hands out to the fire. ‘Uncle Teddy has gone off, by the way. He took one look at Jared and made a run for it. That was on Saturday and we haven’t seen him since. We’ve looked in a few of the pubs, but there’s been no sign of him.’

‘Have you reported him missing?’ asked Emma.

‘In the circumstances, no,’ answered Dorothy. ‘We’re hoping he’ll stay away and never come back.’

‘Perhaps he’s had an accident and has no identification on him and is dead,’ said Betty from the doorway. They turned and looked at her. She smiled. ‘Jared’s just told me that Uncle Teddy’s run away. I hope he’s as frightened of our Jared as I was of him.’

‘You know what this means, Betty,’ said Dorothy, smiling. ‘You can come back and live at home.’

Betty hesitated. ‘I know it costs money, but I do like my little nest at the top of the house in Gambier Terrace. I’m close to college and, living in town, I feel as if I’m at the centre of things. I’ll be seventeen in November, and with Christmas coming up, I should be able to get more hours
working in a shop, so will be able to deal with some of my living expenses.’

Jared exchanged glances with his sister. ‘Perhaps it’s best for Betty to stay where she is for now.’ He switched his attention to Emma. ‘I thought she could come back with us and I’ll be able to see where she’s staying.’

‘But I’m not going back until tomorrow,’ said Betty, glancing at Emma. ‘Isn’t that right? You’re prepared to put up with me until then.’

Jared leant against the wall and folded his arms. ‘Let’s think about this. Dot’s got to go back this evening because she can’t afford to take another day off work. But I don’t, because I don’t start work until next Monday. If there’s an inn or a B&B where I can stay, then—?’

‘You can stay here,’ interrupted Betty eagerly. ‘Can’t he, Emma? I can sleep with you in the double bed and he can have the single in the back room.’

There was a silence.

Jared stared at Emma. ‘What do you say?’ he asked.

She felt her cheeks warm again under his scrutiny. ‘I don’t see why not. You’re family after all.’ To hell with her reputation, she thought.

‘That’s settled then,’ said Dorothy cheerfully. ‘I don’t mind travelling back on my own. I can read my magazine in peace.’ She paused. ‘Right now, I wouldn’t mind taking a walk to the Ashcrofts’
place. Mr Ashcroft has something for me.’

‘Who’s Mr Ashcroft?’ asked Jared.

‘You’ll find out later,’ said Dorothy, winking at Emma and heading for the door.

‘I’ll go with her, shall I?’ said Betty hastily. ‘I haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks and there’s something I need to tell her.’

She did not wait for their response but followed her cousin out. The door closed behind her, leaving a silence that, to Emma, felt loaded with expectation. She wasted no time occupying herself in making tea and putting jam on scones.

‘I like these walls,’ Jared surprised her by saying.

She glanced over at him and saw that he was running his hand over the peeling paint on the outside wall. ‘The whole place needs decorating,’ she said.

‘This wall needs more than decorating,’ he said. ‘They built them strong in those days, but I reckon you need a damp course put in here. Your plasterwork definitely needs redoing.’

‘I wouldn’t deny it,’ she murmured. ‘Of course, with you being in the building trade, you’ll be interested in buildings.’

He nodded. ‘Being a plasterer wouldn’t have been my first choice of job, though, but my dad was a brickie and he told me that I should become a plasterer. He had it mind that, one day, we’d be in business together with a plumber friend of
his. Only Dad became ill and everything went for a burton. As it turned out, there was much more to my apprenticeship as a plasterer than I thought there’d be.’

She looked at him with interest. ‘What do you mean?’

He pulled out a chair and hitched up his black corduroys and sat down. She was aware that he was watching her as she went over to the dresser and took down two plates. There was that tingle down her spine again.

‘There’s more to plastering than just plastering walls,’ he replied. ‘The journeyman plasterer who taught me helped repair the plasterwork in St George’s Hall, which was damaged during the Blitz. Plaster flowers. He’d spent his war in the artillery, coast-watching down in Kent. He has a wife and four kids and supplements his income by making decorative plaques, which he designs and paints himself. He’s artistic, just like your father was.’ He paused. ‘Ever been to Speke Hall on the outskirts of Liverpool?’

She smiled. ‘No.’

‘You should. It’s Elizabethan. They had time to be really creative in those days, as long as the aristocracy were paying their wages. A lot of these mansions have marvellous ceilings,’ said Jared, his eyes alight with enthusiasm.

‘I know what you mean,’ said Emma, placing
the scones on the table in front of him. ‘There’s an old manor house not far from here and you can see that it was once beautiful, but sadly the whole place is looking the worse for wear now. Its last owner was killed in the war and I hear the solicitors are still looking for his next of kin.’

He nodded. ‘It’s a blinking shame. Trouble is, there isn’t the money around at the moment to afford the repairs that are necessary. It’s a time-consuming job is renovation.’

‘Is that what you’d like to do? Make something that was beautiful, lovely again?’ she asked.

Jared said, ‘You bet. As it is, I have to be where the work and the money is. Right now, people need homes. My old boss told me that the Liverpool Corporation sites at Kirkby, Speke and Aintree represent some of the most valuable building land in the country. That’s why the building industry is in competition to rebuild Liverpool.’

‘That’s understandable,’ said Emma. ‘I saw some of the devastation caused by the bombing.’ She hesitated. ‘You mentioned a portrait of me painted by my dad. Have you any idea what happened to it?’

‘No.’ Jared got to his feet and began to prowl around the room.

‘How can you be so certain it was me?’ asked Emma, wishing he’d keep still. She had to keep turning her head to look at him.

‘He told me about you living with your grandparents in the countryside,’ said Jared. ‘I presume that would be here in this house. He and Aunt Lizzie hadn’t been married long. I saw some of his other pictures. They were mainly seascapes. He told me that one he had painted of shipping in the Mersey had won some prize and been bought by the council and put on display in Liverpool’s Walker Art Gallery.’

Emma felt a swell of pride. ‘Honestly?’

He glanced over his shoulder at her. ‘You really should go there and see if they’ve hung it back up again.’

‘What do you mean “back up again”?’

‘The paintings were all taken away and hidden during the war; it was feared they could be destroyed in an air attack on the city,’ he said, coming and standing in front of her, so close that his breath fluttered a lock of her chestnut hair. ‘The building was used by the Ministry of Food during the war, issuing ration books and that kind of thing. It was only opened again in 1951 due to it needing essential reconstruction work.’

‘I presume you haven’t been to see if the painting is back in place, yourself?’ she asked, her heart racing due to his nearness.

‘Not yet.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Perhaps we can go there together when you’re not so busy.’

‘I’d like that,’ said Emma. Their faces were
only inches apart and she felt quite breathless. She thought he might kiss her and wished he would. That shocked her, because it had not been so long ago that she had wanted Dougie to kiss her and believed herself in love with him.

Jared moved away and she breathed easy again. ‘I’ll pour the tea, shall I?’ she said. ‘You can help yourself to scones.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, smiling faintly at her.

They were silent as they ate and drank. She waited for him to pass comment on her baking, but he was gazing about the room again. She thought he was probably comparing her cottage to his own home, thinking his was much better.

Suddenly, he said, ‘Would you mind showing me around after?’

Emma gave a start. ‘I-I don’t mind at all. I’d need to show you where you’re sleeping, anyway. S-so what do you think of my scones?’ she added.

Jared smiled. ‘I wouldn’t have eaten most of them if I didn’t think they were a bit of all right. Lovely fruity jam and the pastry nice and light.’

Emma was relieved because she had done something that he liked. ‘Betty and I picked the blackberries only a few weeks ago.’

‘I remember blackberrying during the war. I was evacuated to Anglesey for a while. The farmer’s wife used to make blackberry jam but it wasn’t as good as yours.’

Emma murmured, ‘All compliments gratefully accepted.’

‘You’d make some lucky man a good wife. Although, I suppose with your running your tea shop as well as doing bookkeeping, you’re not really looking for a husband.’

‘No – not actively looking,’ said Emma, picking up the crockery and carrying it over to the sink.

‘Let me wash up.’ said Jared, getting to his feet.

‘No!’ She sounded shocked. ‘Men don’t wash dishes in this house.’

‘I washed many a crock whilst in the army.’

‘Well, you’re not washing any here,’ said Emma firmly, putting in the plug and running water. ‘If you need the lavatory, by the way, it’s outside. I haven’t got a posh bathroom like you have at home.’