A Cuckoo in Candle Lane (25 page)

Her head was thumping, and as she thought about John, tears constantly threatened. How could she go to work? Not only would she have to face Lottie, but worse was the thought of seeing John, knowing that their relationship was over.

She put off going downstairs until the last moment and kept her head lowered as she walked into the kitchen, relieved to find that only her mother was up.

‘Are you all right, Sal? You look awful.’

‘I’ve just got a bit of a headache, Mum, that’s all.’

‘Well, you had better get a move on or you’ll be late. I’ve made you some toast.’

Hurriedly swallowing a cup of tea and unable to face any food, Sally went out into the hall and shrugged on her coat. Then, just putting her head around the door, she called, ‘Bye, I’m off.’

‘Sal, wait! What about yer breakfast?’

She heard her mother’s shout but ignored it, rushing out of the door. Ann was leaving her house at the same time, and after one look at her friend’s face, she said, ‘Heavens! What’s up?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing, just a headache.’

‘Well, looking at the state of you, it must be a right thumper. Are you sure there isn’t anything else wrong?’ Ann asked, her eyes narrowed with suspicion as she gazed at her.

Anxious to avoid any more questions Sally shook her head, fumbling in her mind for something to distract Ann. ‘My aunt’s going to Blackpool on Saturday with my mum. They’re determined to sort my uncle out.’

‘Oh, when are they coming back?’

‘They’re staying overnight and travelling back on Sunday.’

‘I wish I could be there when they knock on his door,’ Ann said, grinning widely. ‘I’d love to see the look on his face.’

‘Yes, I know what you mean, but I can’t help thinking about the woman he’s living with. If she thinks they’re legally married, how is she going to feel, and what about their little boy?’

‘I hadn’t thought about that,’ Ann said, the smile leaving her face. ‘Oh, the poor things.’

As they approached Arding & Hobbs, Sally’s footsteps faltered; she was dreading the prospect of facing John’s aunt. But when she reached her department she found Lottie absent, her place taken by a temporary assistant from another section.

The morning dragged by, and only her concern for Lottie forced Sally to the canteen at lunchtime. She had to face John; it was the only way to find out what was wrong with his aunt.

She found him sitting at their usual table, her heart leaping when he looked up, smiling softly. ‘Hello, darling, sit down,’ he urged.

Sliding onto a chair beside him she found her hands were trembling, and she clenched them in her lap. ‘Why is Lottie absent today, John? Has her pain worsened?’

‘I took your advice and made an appointment for her at the surgery. She may be back to work this afternoon; it depends what the doctor says. But listen, darling, I want to apologise for my behaviour last night. Will you forgive me?’

Sally gawked, unable to believe her ears. ‘But what about my psychic healing?’ she asked, her voice high.

He sighed, shaking his head slowly. ‘I can’t say I agree with it, Sally, but I do understand the dilemma you’re in. I’ve given it a great deal of thought and I wondered if we could come to a compromise. Would you agree to confine your healing to your gran and not use it on anyone else?’

‘Oh John, of course I will,’ she cried, relief flooding through her body and her eyes filling with tears of happiness. She hadn’t lost him. Oh, it was wonderful.

It was two days before Lottie returned to work. The doctor had sent her for several tests at St Thomas’s Hospital, and now she was waiting for the results. She looked tired and drawn, and Sally tried to help her as much as she could, rushing to serve the customers when they approached the counter. Throughout the day she furtively studied Lottie’s aura, worried by the dark places she could clearly see.

It was when there was a lull in the late afternoon and she could see pain etched on Lottie’s face, that she plucked up the courage to speak. ‘Are you all right?’ she whispered, standing close to her side.

‘I’m not too bad, Sally,’ Lottie answered softly, ‘but I won’t be sorry to go home.’

‘Please, would you let me help you? I’m sure I could alleviate some of your pain with spiritual healing.’

‘No! How could you even suggest it, Sally? You know how I feel about using psychic powers. It’s wrong, very wrong,’ she said angrily.

‘Oh, please don’t get upset. I’m sorry, I just wanted to help you, that’s all.’

‘I suggest that you keep to your agreement with John and confine your activities to your grandmother, and in future, Sally, I don’t want to hear another word about it. Now please go and sort the records out in that rack; they’re in an awful muddle. Put them in alphabetical order, please.’

Sally nodded, knowing by the dismissive tone in her voice that it would be useless to argue, and for the following hour the atmosphere between them was strained.

It was a relief to go home, and as she stepped into the kitchen, Sally was surprised to see her aunt busily laying the table. ‘Hello,’ Mary said, smiling a greeting. ‘Dinner won’t be long.’

‘Where’s Mum?’

‘I’m afraid she’s in bed with a shocking cold and it feels like she’s got a temperature.’

‘Oh no, I thought she sounded a bit hoarse this morning. I’ll just pop up to see her.’

‘All right, my dear, and perhaps you could ask her if she’d like something to eat.’

Quietly opening the bedroom door, Sally found her mum propped up in bed looking distinctly sorry for herself. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Bleedin’ awful and my head’s swimming,’ Ruth complained.

Sally laid a hand across her forehead, surprised at how hot she felt. ‘Well, you’re in the best place. Have you taken anything?’

‘Just a Beecham’s Powder.’

‘Why don’t you try Gran’s cure-all?’

‘I would, but we ain’t got any whisky,’ she said dolefully.

Sally smiled inwardly at the hint. ‘I’ll pop down to the off-licence to get some. If anything will put you back on your feet, it’ll be Gran’s concoction.’

‘What about you? Can’t you give me some of your healing?’

‘Oh Mum, I can’t cure a cold,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘By the way, Aunt Mary wants to know if you’d like something to eat?’

‘No thanks, me throat’s too sore.’

‘All right, Mum, get some rest now. I’ll pop up again later.’

She rushed to buy the whisky before dinner, despite her aunt’s complaints that it would be ruined, and now watched her gran mixing up her famous recipe. A good measure of whisky, mixed with honey, lemon, and a couple of teaspoons of Galloway’s cough syrup, all topped with boiling water. ‘There,’ she said, handing it to Sally, ‘that’ll do the trick. Make sure she drinks it while it’s hot.’

On Friday evening Sally sat beside her mum, surprised that her cold was still raging. Her temperature was down, but she was still feeling poorly. ‘You won’t be able to go to Blackpool now, Mum.’

‘I know,’ she croaked. ‘I feel awful letting your aunt down, but she’s so determined to go, I couldn’t persuade her to wait.’

Sally frowned; she didn’t like the thought of her aunt going to Blackpool on her own. ‘Mum, I could go with her. I’ve got the day off tomorrow.’

Mary stepped in the room, just in time to hear Sally’s offer. ‘Oh, that would be smashing,’ she said.

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ her mother said worriedly. ‘What if Harry turns nasty?’

Mary smiled sardonically. ‘There’s no chance of that, Ruth. Harry runs away from trouble. He’s a coward.’

‘Yeah, but even so, I don’t like the idea of Sal …’ A fit of coughing suddenly shook her, leaving her drained.

‘Don’t worry, Mum, we’ll be fine. Have you booked somewhere to stay for the night, Auntie?’

‘No, I’m afraid not. But don’t worry, the summer season’s well over now, so we’ll easily find a little B and B.’

‘I think I’ll pop next door,’ Sally said, allaying any further protest from her mother. ‘I’m sure Elsie won’t mind keeping an eye on you and Gran while we’re away.’

‘Of course I’ll make sure they’re all right,’ Elsie said. ‘Though I’m surprised your mum’s allowing you to go.’

Sally grinned. ‘Yes, I know what you mean, but she’s too poorly to put up much of a fight. She still treats me like a child, doesn’t she, and forgets that I’m all grown up now and engaged to be married.’

‘Sally, you’re an only child so she’s bound to be more protective,’ Elsie said, adding with a grin, ‘and as for being grown up, I reckon you’ve got a good few years to go before you get the key to the door.’ She glanced around quickly then as Arthur walked in. ‘Hello, son,’ she said.

Arthur smiled at his mother, then turned his gaze to Sally. ‘Hello,’ he said softly. ‘You look nice.’

‘Thanks,’ Sally said, feeling herself turn pink. Why did he always have this effect on her? It felt as though her stomach was full of butterflies. Like his father Bert, he seemed to fill the room with his presence and looked incongruous standing beside his mother, his six foot two height dwarfing her.

‘Sally and her aunt are going to Blackpool in the morning to sort that Harry out,’ Elsie told him.

Arthur frowned. ‘Will you be all right, Sally? Would you like me to come with you? I could drive you both up there.’

‘Thanks, Arthur, it’s very kind of you to offer, but we’ll be fine. I’d better be off now. Thanks again, Elsie. Bye, Arthur.’

As she left the room, Elsie turned to her son. ‘You’re making it a bit obvious, love. You still like her, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do. I’ll always have a soft spot for her. But we’re both engaged now and I’m happy enough with Jenny.’

Elsie touched his arm. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Australia is a long way away, son.’

‘Don’t start again, Mum. We’ve been through this so many times. Yes, I’ve made the right decision,’ he told her, marching swiftly out of the kitchen.

Elsie twisted the tea-towel in her hand as she heard the door slam. I’ve driven him out again, she thought. Yet she couldn’t help nagging him. The thought of never seeing him again was unbearable. Oh, if only he and Sally could have got together, Arthur would never have thought of emigrating then.

T
he following day, as Sally stepped off the Blackpool train feeling tired and dishevelled, a blast of cold blustery wind whipped around her legs. She shivered as she turned to her aunt. ‘I wonder if Harry’s house is far from the station.’

‘Let’s hope it isn’t, dear,’ Mary answered, struggling to tie a scarf around her hair. ‘Come on, we’ll get a taxi.’

They handed the driver Harry’s address, sinking into their seats, pleased to be told it was only a ten-minute journey.

‘What are we going to do if he’s out, Aunt Mary?’

‘I don’t know. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ She removed her scarf and ran a comb through her hair. ‘I don’t want to turn up on his doorstep looking a mess. Daft isn’t it, but it will make me feel at a disadvantage.’ Digging in her handbag and taking out a compact, she peered into the mirror, powdered her face, and applied a fresh coat of pink lipstick. ‘There,’ she sighed. ‘Ready for battle.’

Sally reached out to grasp her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to leave it until the morning?’

‘No, I just want to get it over with,’ she answered, as the taxi pulled into the kerb.

Paying the driver, they turned to look at the neat row of terraced houses. ‘Come on, Sally, it’s this one,’ Mary whispered, her face drawn.

Sally stood behind her aunt as a pretty blonde woman, a toddler at her side, opened the door. ‘Yes, can I help you?’ she asked.

‘I’ve come to see Harry. Is he in?’ Mary said curtly, nerves making her voice high.

‘No, he’s just popped into town for a few things, but I’m expecting him back shortly.’ The little boy began to whimper and she swung him up into her arms, asking, ‘Why do you want to see my husband?’

‘
Your
husband?’ Mary said sharply. ‘That’s a good one, considering he’s still married to me.’

The woman’s face stretched into an expression of utter disbelief, and clutching her son closer to her chest, she said, ‘No, he can’t be, you must be mistaken.’

‘I can assure you there’s no mistake. I have it on good authority that my husband lives at this address, and I’m not moving from here until I see him.’

‘But Harry divorced his first wife,’ she paused, her face turning ashen. ‘Is …is your name Mary?’

‘Yes, it is, and despite what he’s told you, we aren’t divorced. I’m still legally his wife.’

The woman swayed, her voice a whisper, ‘Not divorced? But … but that would mean we’re not married. No, no, I can’t believe this.’ Holding the child with one arm, she clutched the stanchion.

‘Are you all right?’ Mary asked, stepping forward with concern.

‘Yes, I just felt a bit dizzy for a moment.’ Standing aside, she added, ‘It might be better if you came in. I’m sure we can straighten this out when Harry comes home.’