Читать книгу Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection - Josephine Cox - Страница 54

AGGIE WAS SHOPPING in Blackburn town, when she saw a familiar little figure just ahead of her. Recognising the woman at once as John Hanley’s Aunt Lizzie, she called out: ‘Lizzie! Wait on!’

The other woman had already quickened her steps, and darted inside the ironmonger’s to escape her.

Unaware that Lizzie was trying her best to dodge her, Aggie persisted. ‘Hey, Lizzie! Hold on a minute!’ she shouted as she hurried down the street after her.

‘Right, missus. What can I get you?’ The man behind the big counter had seen his customer rush in and was eager not to let her rush out again without buying something.

‘I’m just looking, thank you.’ Hiding herself behind the nearest rack of shelves, Lizzie bent her head to examine the row of paint-brushes.

Undeterred, the man was out from behind his counter and beside her in a trice. ‘What kind d’you want?’ he asked. ‘I’ve got all types and sizes, aye, and all prices to suit.’ Hovering close by, he kept her trapped in that spot. ‘There’s your good-quality brush, then there’s your cheap brush. It all depends on what you want it for, and how much you intend paying.’

Believing she had been there long enough for Aggie to have gone her own way, Lizzie pushed by him. ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to think on it.’

‘You’ll not find a better brush anywhere else.’ Hands on hips, he blocked her way.

‘I’m sure I won’t,’ she said sweetly. ‘But if you don’t move outta my road, the fish in my bag will begin to stink your shop out. Once the smell greets them at the door, you’ll not get another customer this side o’ Christmas.’

On that he swiftly moved aside and let her go. ‘Don’t forget,’ he called after her. ‘You’ll not get cheaper or better, however far you look.’

When Lizzie came out, Aggie was waiting for her. ‘I didn’t follow you inside,’ she explained. ‘The man who serves in there is a nightmare. You can’t look at anything without he’s breathing over your shoulder.’ Now, as he recognised her and waved eagerly from inside the shop, Aggie gave him a wave back and began to move away. ‘I allus go into Preston if I need owt like that,’ she confided out of his earshot.

As she had no real option, Lizzie accompanied her back up the street. ‘I threatened to stink his shop out wi’ fish if he didn’t let me go,’ she laughed.

Aggie glanced suspiciously at the older woman’s shopping bag. ‘If you’ve got fish in there, you’d best tek it home a bit smartish,’ she advised. ‘It’s early yet, but this July sun will fry it for sure, if you’re not careful.’

Lizzie grinned. ‘I were fibbing. I ain’t got no fish at all,’ she confessed. ‘Only I had to tell him summat. The bugger had me trapped against the paint-brushes, so I told him a fishy story, if yer like.’

Aggie chuckled at that. Lizzie had always been easy to talk to, but since her nephew John had gone off and left their Emily with child, the woman had been keeping out of everyone’s way. Aggie thought that was a real shame. After all, it wasn’t Lizzie’s fault any more than it was Aggie’s.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ she said warmly. ‘It’s been a long while since we’ve had a natter. I did call round a few times, only you were never in.’

‘Oh, well y’see, I often go for long rambles now I live on me own,’ Lizzie answered. ‘Happen that’s why you couldn’t get me.’ She hated lying. It made her feel uncomfortable, as it did now.

Since Emily had cheated on John, and she herself had lied to both him and to her because of it, Lizzie’s attitude towards the Ramsdens had changed. In fact, she had decided it might be wiser to keep her distance. So, whenever she saw them coming up the lane to visit, she had locked the door and hidden herself away. Both Aggie and Emily had called on her many a time, until in the end they appeared to have given up, and that was fine by her.

‘All right are you, lass?’ Aggie had a sneaking feeling that Lizzie wasn’t telling the truth. Moreover, the old dear looked a little under the weather.

‘I’m very well, thank you,’ Lizzie replied confidently. ‘And yourself?’

‘Can’t grumble,’ Aggie shrugged. ‘I don’t get time to be ill, what with the farm and everything.’

‘No, I don’t expect you do.’ Through it all, Lizzie had always respected Aggie for the way she seemed to cope. ‘I do admire you, lass, the way you soldiered on after your husband … well, I mean …’ Having blurted out more than she intended, she now felt like crawling under a stone.

Aggie nodded resignedly. ‘I know what you mean, and it’s all right,’ she assured her. ‘Michael left us well and truly in the lurch. It’s no secret hereabouts.’

‘But you’ve kept it all going, and I think that’s grand.’ Relieved that Aggie had taken it so well, Lizzie added, ‘And how’s Emily?’

‘Oh, she’s fine.’ Aggie’s pride showed in her face. ‘The lass is a treasure. Honest to God, Lizzie, I don’t know what I’d do without her.’

It was on the tip of Lizzie’s tongue to ask after the child, but she thought better of it. ‘Is your father-in-law well?’

Aggie chuckled. ‘As daft as ever,’ she said. ‘He drives me mad with his antics, but we’re good for each other. He makes me laugh.’

‘Give him my regards, won’t you?’

‘Aye, but you could do that yerself, if ever you chose to visit?’

Lizzie nodded. ‘We’ll see.’ But she knew she wouldn’t. To go down to Potts End and pretend that nothing had happened between the two families was all too daunting.

Even though Lizzie had not asked after Cathleen, Aggie was determined to mention her, if only to remind Lizzie of how her nephew had left Emily a shamed woman. ‘The child is well,’ she told Lizzie guardedly. ‘A more darling lass you could never hope to meet.’

Lizzie nodded. ‘I’m glad.’ That was all she could say on the subject, because now her mind went back to the conversation with Emily, who had assured her that John was not the father of her child.

To Lizzie’s thinking, that had cleared him of all blame – though lately, somewhere at the back of her mind, she felt things weren’t quite what they seemed.

Emily and John had been so much in love, she had always known that. When it seemed that Emily had cheated on John, Lizzie had been shaken to her roots. She had been angry and disgusted, wanting to hit back.

All along, John had been her main priority. Believing she needed to save him from a woman who had betrayed him the minute his back was turned, she had sent him away, saddened and broken by her lies. Had she been right, she fretted, in telling John that Emily was happily wed, with a child by Danny Williams? Though it didn’t matter now, she told herself, because now Emily really was wed. Danny had taken on the role of Cathleen’s father, so Emily was made respectable and everything was fine. Or was it?

Day by day, Lizzie was becoming more and more unsettled and worried.

Unaware of the torture that Lizzie was going through, Aggie chatted away. ‘By! It must be what – Christmas Eve when I last saw you out and about.’ She chuckled. ‘If you recall, me and Cathleen were out collecting a tree for the parlour – a huge great thing it was. We wanted it to be a surprise for Emily, so we chose the biggest one in the market. We got halfway across the street and couldn’t carry it an inch further. If it hadn’t been for you and that passer-by, I don’t know what we’d have done.’

Lizzie found herself laughing, and she relaxed a little. ‘Oh, I’m sure you’d have managed somehow,’ she said encouragingly. ‘But I’ll tell you what. I couldn’t help but notice how like Emily your granddaughter is, and what a fine young lady she’s making.’

‘Aye, she is that,’ Aggie readily agreed. ‘What’s more, she’s got a lovely nature to go with her good manners.’ She paused. ‘Mind you, she can be strong-minded when the mood takes her.’

Lizzie was curious. ‘Really?’

‘Oh, I’m telling you, when her and her great-grandad get started, it’s a case of who might outwit the other. They’re so alike it’s unnerving.’

‘How old is she now?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Five … six? She must be getting on that way by now.’ Suddenly she was hungry for information.

Grateful that, at long last, Lizzie appeared to be taking an interest in Cathleen, Aggie happily enlightened her. ‘She’s six year old … and a few months.’

‘She’s at school then?’

‘Oh, aye! Loves it, an’ all. She’s been attending the village school for some time now.’ Aggie beamed with pride. ‘She’s especially good at drawing and painting pictures. But o’ course they don’t care much for teaching that sort o’ stuff. They like to concentrate on reading and writing and learning ’em their times tables. Still, I can’t say it bothers me, ’cause I’m a firm believer in a child learning its three Rs.’

Lizzie wanted to know more, like had they told the child who her father was yet, and had she become aware of the lies about John being labelled the villain? But she kept all that to herself, and instead she asked after Emily. ‘And you say your daughter’s fine?’

‘She’s well, yes. Thank you.’

‘Enjoying married life, is she?’

Aggie was a little more coy. ‘Seems to be.’

Lizzie smiled. ‘Good.’ She owed the family an apology. ‘Look, Aggie, thank you again for inviting me to the wedding, but like I said, I wasn’t feeling too clever that day.’ It was a downright lie, and they both knew it.

In truth, it was shame and guilt that had kept her away. Shame because she had lied, and guilt because she was the one who had split John and Emily up and driven her into marrying another man – possibly Cathleen’s father, although she might never know the truth about that.

Since Danny had taken her as his wife, Lizzie had deliberately avoided Emily, which was such a shame, because at one time, she and the young woman had been the best of friends.

‘And is everything fine with you, Lizzie? I was concerned when I couldn’t seem to get hold of you. But at least you got my notes.’ Never able to catch her at home, Aggie had taken to sending her notes by way of Danny, and she always received one in return. It was a pleasing thing.

‘I can’t complain,’ Lizzie answered. ‘Oh, and thank you for your notes. Young Danny delivered them along with the milk. All in all, he seems a very nice young man.’

‘He is,’ Aggie retorted. All of a sudden, her good humour left her, and the truth of her feelings began to spill over. She had kept them locked away for so long. ‘Danny is a good husband and a good father to Cathleen, which is just as well because as we both know, the child’s own father doesn’t care enough about her to even ask after her!’ Aggie was outraged by the way Lizzie had seemed to skilfully move away from the subject of her own great-grandniece. Lizzie’s refusal to acknowledge Cathleen as part of her own family rankled deeply. It was a wicked thing, to Aggie’s mind.

Taken aback by the ferocity of Aggie’s remarks, Lizzie retaliated. ‘John is not Cathleen’s father!’ she retorted. ‘How many times do you need to be told, before you see the truth of it?’

‘Oh, and what is the truth, pray tell?’

‘You had better ask your daughter that.’ Not wanting the conversation to degenerate into a shouting match, Lizzie stiffly bade her a polite good day and went about her shopping. The other woman let her go and this time, did not call after her.

An hour later, Lizzie paused to take refreshment in the pretty little café on the boulevard.

‘Morning, love. I haven’t seen you in a while.’ Bessie, the woman behind the counter was a jolly sort with rolled-up greying hair and a wide, gap-toothed smile. ‘Been poorly, have you?’

‘No, just taking things easy,’ Lizzie answered cagily. In truth she had been feeling unwell on and off for some weeks now, during which time she had only ventured out whenever she needed something for the larder. Even then she was always quick to hurry back home.

‘What’ll it be then?’ Bessie asked kindly. ‘Tea and a bun as usual?’

Gasping for a drink, Lizzie was thankful. ‘That sounds like a good idea, yes, thank you.’

‘Would you mind if I joined you?’ Bessie asked. ‘Only we’ve been that busy I’m fair worn out.’ She glanced about at the empty room. ‘Being as we’re quiet now, I thought I’d stop for a few minutes while I’ve got the chance. I could just do wi’ a cup o’ tea an’ a sit-down.’

Though she would have preferred to be on her own, Lizzie told her she’d be glad of the company, and so the dear woman hurried away, happily bustling about and singing to herself as she went.

While she was gone, Lizzie delved into her bag and took out a small, square envelope. Opening it up, she removed the letter inside, and read it through for the umpteenth time:

Dear Aunt Lizzie,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I’m writing again, because I have some important news to tell you. You remember I told you in my last letter, of how I had joined forces with a young lady called Rosie Taylor, and how together we have gradually brought her dad’s business back to full swing?

Well, we’ve got on so well, and found so much pleasure in each other’s company, that we’ve decided to make our vows as man and wife. It will happen in spring next year.

I know you’ll be wondering if I truly love her, and in all honesty I can say that I could never love anyone as much as I loved Emily, and still do. But Rosie is a good, kind soul. We’re both very lonely, and since I’ve got to know her so well, I really believe we can make each other happy. We already do.

Please come to our wedding if you can. I want you to be here. It’s been five long years since we saw each other. I really need you beside me when I get wed, and there is so much to show you, as well as so much for us to talk about.

I’ll be eagerly awaiting your reply.

Please say you’ll come. PLEASE.

All my love, as always,

John

There was an address along with a suggestion as to the best route to take once she reached Liverpool. At the bottom of the letter, a postscript: I’ve enclosed a sum of money to put away for the time being. It will cover train and carriage, with enough left over for refreshments and such along the way.

Lizzie sighed. You shouldn’t be getting wed to no stranger, she thought, for that was how she saw this Rosie Taylor. You should be here, son – here, wi’ me, and Emily.

Disheartened, she folded the letter and putting it back in her bag she withdrew a second one.

Taking it from its envelope, she read:

My dear,

I’m glad you’ve found a measure of happiness with this young lady called Rosie, though I must say, I hadn’t realised it had gone so far as you and she planning to be wed. All the same, if that’s what you want, then it makes me happy too.

As you already know, I’m not good at travelling. But I’ll be there for you on the day.

God bless. See you in a few short months.

Lots of love,

Auntie Lizzie

The letter was duly signed and now she slid it back into its envelope and sealed it.

‘There you are, luv.’ Bessie returned with a tray of tea and two buns. ‘My poor feet feel like two raw chops,’ she groaned, dropping herself into a chair. ‘I don’t mind telling you, I’m ready for this break.’

Oblivious to the fact that Lizzie would much rather be left alone with her thoughts, she launched into a harrowing account of how bad feet had always run right through her family. ‘My poor old mam was a martyr to them!’ she exclaimed. ‘A martyr!’

Some time later, with her ears ringing about bad-smelling feet and relatives who suffered from wind, Lizzie made good her escape. Dropping her letter into the post-box, she had to smile. ‘Poor Bessie,’ she murmured as she went for the tram. ‘I think she’s the martyr, working all day on her own in that café.’

A short time later, seated on the tram, she took out John’s letter and read it again, hoping with all her heart that he wasn’t leaping out of the frying pan and into the fire.

In spite of the hope and assurances in John’s letter, the stark truth was unsettling. Here was a man, in love with one woman and about to wed another. What good could come of it? Lizzie wondered.