Читать книгу A Daughter’s Courage: A powerful, gritty new saga from the Sunday Times bestseller - Kitty Neale - Страница 11

On Wednesday, when her early shift finished, Dorothy collected her purse from her locker at the bakery and turned to her best friend, Nelly Jackson. They were completely different in looks, Nelly being short and stout with broad features and mousy brown hair, but they had been firm friends for many years.

‘Nelly, I won’t be walking home with you today,’ Dorothy said. ‘I haven’t heard from Robbie since the weekend and, as he was feeling poorly, I want to check that he’s OK.’

Nelly scowled. ‘You know my thoughts on that man … you’re mad to chase him.’

‘I’m not chasing him, I’m worried about him,’ Dorothy replied curtly.

‘Well, I doubt he’d be so worried about you, but it’s your lookout. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Dorothy knew how Nelly felt about Robbie, and though it irritated her she chose to ignore her churlishness. She suspected that Nelly was jealous, but right now she was too worried about Robbie to care. There was an awful stomach bug going around, and, as he’d felt sick in the cinema last Saturday, she hoped he hadn’t succumbed to it. Robbie would normally have called round on Tuesday to see her, but he hadn’t shown up so she assumed he must still be unwell.

Dorothy decided her first port of call would be the garage where he worked. She felt sure that now she was his unofficial fiancée he wouldn’t mind her popping in, especially as she had some fresh ginger biscuits for him and ginger was supposed to be good for an upset tummy. They were the broken ones from work that Mr Epstein had said were in too many bits to sell in the bakery. Though Mr Epstein allowed this small concession, in all other ways he was a mean, strict boss and a stickler for punctuality who was known for sacking girls at a moment’s notice. Still, the unsold or slightly stale bread and cakes had always been a godsend for Dorothy to take home, and in exchange her mother washed Bertie’s shirts and overalls for him. Dorothy smiled as she thought what a proud woman her mum was – never one to accept charity.

The garage door was open when she arrived and, as Dorothy looked around the greasy workroom, she spied Robbie’s boss with his head under the bonnet of a very ostentatious-looking black car.

‘Hello, sorry to bother you, Mr Thomas,’ Dorothy called nervously.

She made the man jump and he almost bumped his head on the bonnet. He walked towards her, wiping his hands on an oily rag. ‘What can I do for you, young lady?’

‘I’m Dorothy, Robbie’s girlfriend. I wondered if I could have a very quick word with him.’

The smile disappeared from Mr Thomas’s face and was replaced with a scowl. ‘You could if he was here but he ain’t, and if you catch up with the lazy so-and-so, tell him from me that I’d like to have a word with him too.’

Dorothy was convinced that Robbie must be really sick if he wasn’t at work. ‘Oh … I’m sorry, he must be ill at home. I’ll call round there.’

‘He hasn’t shown his face so far this week, nor has he sent word to me that he’s ill. You tell him he’ll be lucky if he’s still got a job when he can be bothered to turn up.’

‘But, Mr Thomas, there must be something dreadfully wrong if Robbie hasn’t shown up for work. Please, give him a chance to explain. He needs this job. We’re getting married, you know.’

Roger Thomas shook his head and returned to the car he had been working on, muttering under his breath, ‘Good luck to you, you’re gonna need it.’

Dorothy decided the man had only said that because he was angry with Robbie, and dismissed his rude comment as she made her way through the streets to the other side of Battersea and Robbie’s house.

When she finally reached the impressive terraced house where Robbie lived with his brother, Dorothy knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Worried, she banged harder and then called through the letterbox, ‘Robbie! Robbie!’

A short, rosy-faced woman appeared from the house next door. ‘Goodness, what’s all this noise? You won’t find the Fergusons in at this time of day. They’ll be at work.’

‘I know, thank you, but my fiancé Robbie Ferguson hasn’t been at work this week so I wondered if he was at home sick.’

The woman cocked her head to one side and said, ‘Now I come to think about it, I haven’t seen Robbie this week either, or heard any of his music blaring on that gramophone of his.’

Dorothy was becoming seriously concerned now. Robbie wasn’t at work or at home. Had something really awful happened? Was he in hospital?

‘Thank you,’ she called to the woman as she dashed along the street, heading for Adrian’s office, her anxiety reaching fever pitch. Please let Adrian be there, and please let my Robbie be OK, her mind chanted over and over again as she hoped for the best, yet feared the worst.

When his office door flew open, Adrian wasn’t surprised to see Dorothy standing there. He had been half expecting this, though when he saw the ashen look on her face his heart sank as once again he knew he had been left to pick up the pieces of Robbie’s irresponsibility.

‘Adrian, I’m so sorry to barge in on you like this but it’s Robbie … I’m really worried about him. Is he OK?’

Though he’d only met Dorothy a few times whilst she’d been seeing Robbie, Adrian’s impression was that she was a nice girl, and he dreaded what he had to say.

‘I don’t know what to tell you. That brother of mine is the bane of my life,’ he said reluctantly as he lit his pipe while gathering his thoughts. Smoke billowed as he puffed hard on the stem to get it going. The pungent aroma of tobacco began to fill the office.

‘What do you mean? Where’s Robbie? Is he all right?’ Dorothy begged.

The poor girl, thought Adrian, she has no idea, and the least he could do was try to protect her. Robbie was in Scotland, staying with their sister Myra, but he’d keep that bit of information to himself. ‘As far as I know he’s perfectly well,’ he told Dorothy.

‘So … so he’s not ill?’

Adrian didn’t know the full story. Robbie had just told Myra that he was fed up with London, and when they’d spoken on the telephone he’d been evasive. ‘I received a bit of a garbled phone call from him yesterday. It appears he’s up north, but I don’t know exactly where, and from what I can make out he has no plans to return,’ he told her in a rush. There, he had told it as it was. No sugar-coating it, but he immediately started looking for his handkerchief in anticipation of the tears that were bound to come next from Dorothy.

‘But I don’t understand. He … he never said anything to me … and … and we’re supposed to be getting married. Why has he gone up north?’

‘I have no idea. I’m so sorry, my dear, but that’s our Rob for you. He’s never had any consideration for anyone except himself and you’ll never change him.’

‘No, no, this can’t be right. What about our wedding?

Adrian stood up and walked round his desk to place his arm gently over Dorothy’s shoulder. It obviously hadn’t sunk in yet and he said gently, ‘I think you had better forget any ideas about weddings. We won’t be seeing Rob for a very long time. If ever.’

The handle on the mangle felt extra heavy today, and as Alice turned it she was surprised to hear the front door slam shut, followed by heavy footsteps running up the bare stairs, then the sound of Dorothy’s bedroom door slamming shut too.

Alice hurried upstairs and opened Dorothy’s door to find her daughter strewn across the bed, sobbing her eyes out. ‘Whatever’s the matter, love?’ she asked as she rushed to her daughter’s side.

‘Oh, Mum … he’s left me,’ Dorothy answered, hair streaked across her face and sticking to her tears.

‘What do you mean? Who’s left you?’

‘Robbie! Robbie has gone up north and his brother said he might never come back.’

‘What? But you two are engaged to be married. What’s he doing up north?’

‘I don’t know. He just left without a word to me or nothing. Oh, Mum, what am I going to do? I love him so much and I can’t live without him.’

It broke her heart to see her daughter so distressed, and instantly Alice wanted to wring the bloody young man’s neck. However, the last thing her daughter needed in this situation was sympathy, so pulling back her shoulders she said sternly, ‘Now you listen to me. You managed perfectly well before he came along and you’ll get on well enough without him. Look at you, you’re beautiful and can have your pick of any man around here.’

‘But I don’t want any man … I want Robbie. How could he do this to me? I thought he loved me.’

When Alice moved to sit on the bed Dorothy instantly clung to her, and Alice could feel her shaking with grief. The bastard, she seethed, upsetting my girl like this. If she ever got her hands on Robbie Ferguson, she knew she would quite happily swing for him.