Time to Move On (4 page)

‘Both your fault,’ Jessie said, pushing her aside and going to join Paul. ‘You insisted on the new sink and it was you going out in a huff that caused Paul to be there when those men were wandering around looking for trouble.’

Seranne couldn’t believe what she had heard. How could her mother say such a terrible thing? She sat on her bed, huddled in the eiderdown unable to sleep until the reluctant dawn showed through the curtains. She had known Paul’s arrival would mean changes, but she had never dreamt of things going so wrong between her mother and herself that she would be blamed for the flood and the mysterious attack on Paul. 

Paul seemed unaffected by the attack. Although the following morning he was easily persuaded not to go to the factory. He sat near the fire and between serving customers Jessie ran up and down attending to his comfort. Seranne was uneasy, doubting his explanation of mistaken
identity
. Paul was in trouble and by marrying her mother he had involved them too.

Luke called to ask about Paul and was surprised to hear that he wasn’t at work. ‘I’d have thought that with a busy factory to run he’d have made the effort. Self-employment doesn’t allow much time off for illness, does it?’

Seranne agreed but managed not to add her own criticisms. Two days passed and he seemed fully recovered.

Luke began to make enquiries and what he learnt worried him. Paul had bought out his partner and carried a large mortgage on the business. Many of the staff had left and Paul was reduced to untrained people who surely didn’t have the skills needed for the work. He also learnt that orders were falling, faults were bringing many items back for replacement and the once good business was in serious trouble.

Seranne found living in the flat with her mother and Paul a strain. Seeing them together, interrupting them with their arms around each other,
kissing
, hugging, it should have been a happy experience, knowing her mother was no longer lonely should have made her happy for her, but she couldn’t warm to the man.

She was constantly apologizing when she came across them sitting close together, heads touching, hands clasped. They often put dance music on the gramophone in the evenings and danced together. As an outsider she had no alternative but to go either to her room or out to see a film she didn’t want to see, when she would have preferred to be at
home, listening to the wireless and talking to her mother about the following day’s work.

She felt hemmed in with nowhere to go. Jessie was obviously
ecstatically
happy but seeing her so content didn’t change how Seranne felt about her mother’s choice of husband. She was more and more convinced Jessie had made a terrible mistake in marrying him.

Seeing him go into her mother’s bedroom made her want to run away. It was so embarrassing despite forcing herself not to think of them both in the double bed.

‘If it was anyone else but Paul Curtis I’d have happily accepted it, but I don’t trust him. And Mum is so besotted she agrees with everything he says,’ she told Babs one day.

‘The best thing to do is keep out of the flat as much as you can. Come to stay with us on Saturday night for a start,’ Babs suggested, but Seranne shook her head.

‘There’s such a lot to do on Sundays, and besides, I’d be afraid of what he was doing while I was away. He’s already tried to make us discard the linen tablecloths and use paper ones to cut down on laundry, and he’s taken away the beautiful china teapots and plates from the shelves to save washing them every week. Those things set the scene for a pleasant
interlude
, it’s all a part of what we offer, but can he see that? No, he can’t! I have the horrifying thought that he will ruin everything then leave her.’

‘You think your mother is so unlovable that you can’t believe he married her for anything less than love?’

‘No, I … I’m being overprotective I suppose, but she’s made so many mistakes in the past I presume this is another to add to the list.’

‘Try not to show it, you could be wrong, mind. It has been known,’ she added with a smile.

Hiding her feelings was something Seranne didn’t find easy. When she went into the tea rooms to begin preparations for opening one morning, she saw that the bread rolls to serve with soup, which they had always made on the premises, were already made and cooling and had been cut to about half the usual size. Her mother would have done the baking but it was to Paul she went with her complaint.

‘What do you think you’re doing persuading Mum to make the rolls so small? How can I serve that as a bread roll?’ she asked, poking one near his face. ‘It’s little more than a marble!’

‘Seranne, dear, don’t blame Paul, I made them,’ Jessie said. ‘It seems a good idea, they’re often only half eaten and I thought….’

‘
You
thought? Or was it Paul?’

Seranne knew she was upsetting her mother but holding her temper was simply not easy. Also, she wanted her mother to know how she felt so that when it all fell apart, Jessie would know she could talk to her about Paul. It had all happened before, with boyfriends who were wonderful for a few weeks and then began to lose their charm. The only difference was that this time Jessie had married the man.

Other changes were made, none of them discussed. ‘Why don’t we serve scones on serviettes to save washing dishes?’ An outraged Seranne shouted one morning. ‘Serve tea out of jam jars? Soup from pickle jar lids?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Seranne. You’re acting like a child these days just because of a few improvements suggested by Paul and not you!’

They continued to work together but spoke only when necessary. Seranne stayed out of the flat as much as possible. One evening Seranne was coming back from a walk in the chill of the evening when she saw Paul putting a notice on the tea room window: ‘This establishment will be closed from midday on Saturday until Tuesday morning,’ it announced.

‘Paul? What’s happened, is my mother ill?’

‘Not ill exactly, but if you and I don’t manage to sort out our
differences
she might well be ill and very soon. Can’t you see what you’re doing to her?’

‘What
I’m
doing to …’ she began. ‘It’s you, interfering with the way we run this place, lowering the standards for which we’re famous.’ He said nothing and she asked. ‘How will closing the tea rooms change anything?’

‘The three of us are going away for the weekend, staying at an hotel and perhaps we’ll find a way of getting on together, for your mother’s sake,’ he said. This is a treat for her and I want you to come, but not if we’re going to continue this arguing.’

‘I have no intention of going anywhere with you and my mother. The fact is—’

‘The fact is, Seranne, I’m worried about her. Did you know she was crying the other day, after you’d complained about the reduction in the size of a bread roll?’

How petty that sounds, Seranne thought, but that was just one
incident
among many. She looked up at Paul prepared to argue further, but she stopped. She heard echoes of her voice, high pitched and filled with resentment. What was happening to her that she could behave in such a way? All the years with her mother without a single disagreement, and
since her mother’s marriage she had allowed the situation to change her into a nagging woman. There had to be a better way of dealing with this.

‘All right, I’ll come,’ she said, doubtfully.

‘You can pay for yourself if it will make you feel better,’ he said.

‘Yes, I will!’

She packed a small suitcase with comfortable outdoor clothes,
determined
that apart from mealtimes when she would be calm and polite, she would leave them alone. Paul drove her mother’s car to the hotel and the atmosphere in the car was tense, conversations limited. None of them wanted to be there, each was doing it for someone else and they were all longing for Monday evening when they would be on the way home.

Paul was attentive and at his most charming best and she smiled and ignored the anger bubbling inside as he treated her mother like a delicate china doll, the capable woman she really was completely hidden.

The weather had been awful, low temperature, rain and wind keeping most people indoors, and she had been forced to spend more time than planned with her mother and Paul, who were clearly making a great effort to please her. On Sunday morning, ignoring the warning of worse weather to come, she left the hotel and began to walk. She sensed rather than saw her mother and stepfather watching her as she hurried out putting her coat on as she ran, the wind trying to steal it from her, gusts almost succeeding.

This was more than a windy early winter’s day, the weather was threatening. The clouds were a dark swirling mass so low it seemed they were being torn by the trees that swayed like dancers to the wind’s wild, discordant music. She could feel rain on the wind, which was increasing in strength minute by minute and knew she ought to turn back, but an hour later she was still walking away, her speed increasing, far from the shelter of the hotel, along an unknown country lane. There was
something
exciting about being out in the storm, the wind matching the
turbulence
in her head. She appreciated the freedom as she tried to sort out the difficulties between herself, her mother Jessie and her stepfather, Paul Curtis.

Coming away for a couple of days, leaving behind the routine of their work, had been a good idea and despite her constant resentment towards Paul she had enjoyed it. Away from the confined activities of the business, in the cold, quiet countryside, meeting the occasional lone walker and sharing no more than a few words had rested her. Now, as the time to leave drew near she felt tension rising with every remark Paul made, aware the fault was mostly hers as she misconstrued the most innocent of
comments. How could she be expected to watch him interfere with the business she and her mother had nurtured? She would have to be a saint.

That the business was a success was in no doubt, so why change anything, she had argued and, pulled by both loyalties, her mother had become upset until it had reached the point where they could hardly bear being in the same room.

She had doubted her mother’s wisdom in marrying Paul, considering him rather dull, but had expected things to settle down, with herself and her mother continuing as before, but Paul was spending less and less time at the factory and more time with them. That in itself was a mystery and a subject which he refused to discuss.

‘Oh
why
did she have to marry him?’ she shouted into the wind, as she fought against it, battling her way between trees that lined the long, dark lane.

The lane turned and began to rise as she passed an estate of new houses and bungalows on her right. At the top of the hill she staggered as she faced the wind that roared through the woodland on her right and whistled around the roofs and chimney pots of a few detached houses on her left.

She knew she wasn’t far from Cwm Derw and wasn’t surprised to see, with the aid of a torch, a signpost that announced she was approaching the town. She thought she might call on Babs and Tony. Even on a Sunday there was sure be a bus to take her back to the hotel, or Babs would take her in the firm’s van.

The first flash of lightning and crack of thunder reached her as she was passing the houses set back from the lane and she instinctively ducked as though avoiding a missile. The rain increased suddenly as though being poured from directly above her and she scuttled towards the nearest
gateway
and ran up the path to huddle against the front door for the little shelter it offered.

Furious with herself for being so foolish, she stood there, isolated by the curtain of rain and the dull roar of its ferocity. She wished she had worn a mackintosh instead of the woollen coat. Changing position to ease the cold, wet garment away from her legs, she leant on the door and it gave way, catapulting her inside to land in an undignified heap in the hallway.

She leapt up and stared around in vain, the darkness complete. Her sight gradually made out a little of her surroundings and she knew she was in a hallway. Deciding it was best to announce her presence in case her uninvited arrival had alarmed the occupant, she called, ‘Hello? I’m
terribly sorry but the door gave way and …’

There was no reply, only her own voice echoing back mockingly. The place had a hollow feel and she guessed it was unoccupied. She shone her torch through a doorway and saw a kitchen and her impression was confirmed. Shelves were bare and cupboard doors hung open revealing their emptiness. There was none of the usual clutter, just a long table and a few chairs. Although the afternoon was dark and cold, and no place would have looked bright and cheerful, it was not just missing its
occupants
, it was completely deserted.

After calling a few more times and shivering with the cold, she began to cautiously explore. Venturing into what was the living-room, which, like the kitchen, was sparsely furnished, she then tiptoed back and sat in the kitchen staring out at the wildness beyond the windows. Thunder and lighting were in unison, the storm was overhead. She took off her
dripping
coat and hung it over a chair, her shivering ceased and she relaxed.

She wondered if her mother was worried. Childishly she hoped she was. She thought gloomily about how her life had been disrupted by the appearance of Paul in her mother’s life.

Although Seranne sometimes regretted giving up on a life of her own, failing to make friends as she concentrated on helping her mother at the tea rooms, she accepted the social limitations and was almost content. Now, several years on, apart from a few niggles of unease, she had begun to accept that at twenty-two her life was set and she would continue in the same way until she became too old to try something new.

As she sat in the kitchen of the old house, listening to the storm
growling
around the roof top, her thoughts cleared, like a headache of which she hadn’t even been aware. She became less centred on herself, and
realized
with a pain of guilt, that by staying at home she was ruining her mother’s chance of happiness. She was being selfish and unkind. Paul was her mother’s choice and she hadn’t the right to cause trouble for them. She had a mental picture of the three of them: Jessie, Paul and herself, as though she were an outsider peering in through a window, observing people she didn’t really know, and felt the pain of her mother trying to make her understand. There, in that empty house, with the storm
howling
around its walls, she realized she had to leave the tea rooms and the tiny flat they all shared, and find a new life for herself. In doing so she would be allowing her mother and stepfather to enjoy their second chance. It would also give herself an opportunity to decide how she would like to spend her life. Surely she didn’t have to depend on her mother as though she were a child? She was twenty-two, it was time she moved on.