A Dream of her Own (56 page)
‘Yes, sweetheart. This man hurt me badly.’
‘I didn’t!’ Gerald screamed as Valentino took a step towards him, one powerful arm raised threateningly. ‘I never hurt you - I never even touched you! Why are you lying like this?’
‘You know why,’ Nella muttered, and she took a step backwards.
Her husband had caught the movement from the corner of his eye and turned his head. ‘Nella, what do you want me to do?’
Gerald watched as the woman stared up into her husband’s face. What was she thinking? Why was she just looking at him like that instead of provoking him to violence as she had so obviously intended? Slowly she reached up and placed a hand on the big man’s arm. She pulled it down.
‘Nothing, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you to do anything except take me home.’
Gerald had been holding his breath. Now, as the strange pair looked at each other and he saw that they were actually smiling, he let his breath out slowly and turned to go. He was safe. Facing his father’s tirade would be nothing compared to what might have happened if the strange creature hadn’t suddenly called her bruiser off.
The small hands landed in the middle of his back with such force that he lost his footing and began to fall. He flung his arms out and tried to grasp the iron railings but he missed and, slipping on the top step, he began his headlong progress down into the area yard.
The pain when he hit his head was excruciating. He lay amongst the coal dust feeling sick and disorientated. He looked up and saw the globe of the streetlamp hanging above him. And something else. The little crookback was standing on the top step looking down at him. He moaned and felt hot vomit rise in his throat.
‘That’s right,’ he heard her say. ‘You can lie there and die for all I care.’
And then a mist obscured his vision and her face dissolved and became part of the light ... the light that was fading ... slowly ... until the world went black.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The tram came to a shuddering halt in the Haymarket and Constance made her way to the rear platform. She paused in dismay. The rain, which had not seemed so bad viewed through the steamed-up fug of the windows, was heavier than she’d anticipated. The sky had not even been cloudy when she left the house and she had not thought to bring an umbrella. She should have done; April was living up to its reputation.
‘Hurry up, pet, there’s folks has got shoppin’ to do!’
Constance turned to see a stout, cheery woman standing behind her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she began, but the woman smiled and nudged her to one side.
‘Here you are,’ she said as she leaned out of the tram and opened a large black umbrella. ‘You can share this.’
As she stepped down from the tram, she held the umbrella high above her head with one hand and pulled Constance towards her with the other. ‘Hawway, pet, grab me arm and run, or you’ll get that bonny blue coat splashed. Them automobile drivers never slow down when it’s wet. They divven’t seem to care!’
The two of them set off together across the cobbles and the tram tracks until they reached the pavement, laughing and breathless. Constance turned to face her new friend and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Where are you going now?’ the woman asked. ‘You can walk along with me until we get to the shops. Are you going down Percy Street?’
‘No, that’s kind of you, but I’m going right here - the coffee shop.’
‘All right then, pet. I’ll walk you to the door. There. Tarra, then.’
Her saviour hurried away and Constance dived into the warm, steamy atmosphere of Alvini’s. She almost hadn’t come here today. She wanted to see Nella, that was true, but she had also hoped that she might see Frank. And that hope had unsettled her. But the absurd little episode with the umbrella had left her feeling exhilarated. She was smiling as she went up to the counter.
‘Sit down, madam, and I’ll send a waiter.’ The tall, handsome woman smiled at her. ‘Oh, but wait a minute, it’s Mrs Edington, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Belle McCormack. I remember you from that day when you came with Miss Nicholson - Mrs Alvini, now - to meet the family.’
‘Well, it’s Nella I want to see, actually. That’s why I came.’
Mrs McCormack frowned. ‘Oh dear, I think you’ve missed her.’
‘Is she ... is she at rehearsal?’ Constance had a very hazy idea of how Nella’s days were spent when she wasn’t actually appearing on the stage but she had thought that she might catch her this early in the morning.
‘No, not today. But, look, if you go and sit at that table over there, I’ll send word up to the family and see if they know when she’s coming back.’
Constance made her way to the table by the window. Her dash through the rain and the resulting feeling of wellbeing seemed to have sharpened her senses. The smell of the customers’ damp clothes, the pervasive odour of coffee, the sounds of the coffee machine and the hum of conversation were all heightened.
She had barely taken her place at the table when a young waiter brought over a pot of coffee and a slice of almond cake. ‘Mrs McCormack’s compliments,’ he said.
Constance smiled her thanks and removed her gloves. The hot coffee was just what she needed and the cake looked delicious.
After a while she turned to stare at her own reflection in the window. The fur trimming on her hat sparkled with a spattering of stray raindrops and the spray of feathers attached to the hat pin was drooping limply. She raised a hand and brushed a loose tendril of hair back from her face and laughed softly.
Beyond the café window people hurried by as quickly as they could. Two or three market stalls on the opposite corner were braving it out, their owners huddled under dripping tarpaulins. The cab drivers sat stoically in their cabs, dressed in long waterproof capes; she felt sorry for the patient, steaming horses.
‘Mrs Edington?’ Constance looked up to find Frank Alvini looking down at her. ‘May I join you?’
She had hoped for this and yet dreaded it. All she could do was nod in agreement as he took the seat opposite to her. His black hair was brushed back severely from his high brow and his dark suit made him look quite forbidding. Until he smiled. His smile transformed him. His dark eyes and irregular, mobile features radiated wit and warmth. Constance wished she could share that warmth more often.
He turned and raised an arm and, immediately, the same young waiter hurried across with a fresh pot of coffee.
‘You came to see Nella?’
‘Yes.’
‘My brother and his wife are out looking at houses. They want to buy a place of their own.’
‘I see.’
‘Are you so very disappointed that she isn’t here?’
‘Disappointed, yes. But why do you ask?’
‘Because a moment ago, before I joined you, I saw that you were smiling - you looked happy. But now your smile is gone and you are barely speaking above a whisper. But maybe that is my fault.’
‘Why should it be?’
‘Perhaps you are remembering the last time we met ... the circumstances. Perhaps you don’t wish to be reminded.’
Constance remembered how he had taken her hands in his. The feel of his skin against hers. The sensations his fingers had aroused as he brushed them across her palms ... She lowered her gaze. ‘Well, yes, I don’t like to think about it, but the fact is, that was why I wanted to see Nella - to tell her how grateful I am that she came that day. And that she brought ... brought you with her.’
‘And why is that?’
‘Because you believed me - believed that I wasn’t mad. Do you know, I’d begun to convince myself that I might be. But I behaved like that because I was unhappy, I was driven to it by ... by ...’ She faltered and stared at him helplessly.
‘It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me.’
Frank reached across the table and took her hand. She was shocked by her own reaction. She felt the same excitement as last time only now, if possible, it was more intense. She stared at her hand in his. Suddenly she found it difficult to breathe.
She heard him sigh and looked up to find that he was staring down at her hand - at her wedding ring. She pulled her hand away.
They sat staring at each other, then, ‘And are you happy now, Constance?’ he asked. ‘Did you come to tell Nella that everything is all right now?’
‘No.’ She knew it would be pointless to lie to him. ‘But to assure her that she need not worry. Her friend is quite sane and ... and has much to be thankful for.’
Frank looked away. ‘I’ll tell her that.’ He stood up and looked out of the window. ‘I think the rain is easing off; please wait here as long as necessary. But I mustn’t be late for lectures. Goodbye, then, Constance.’
‘Goodbye.’
She watched him go. He didn’t look back. Constance was dismayed to discover how much that hurt her.
‘Nella, it will be at least a year before the girls can wear these!’
‘That’s the idea. I want to be able to take them out walking in them.’
‘They’re beautiful.’ Constance held up one of the white satin dresses and examined the delicate, self-coloured embroidery. ‘Far too good for these little rogues. They must have cost you a fortune!’
They were in the nursery and the twins were sitting on a large rug spread out on the floor. They were surrounded by soft toys but they were more interested in sucking on the biscuits that Nella had just given them - which she would never have dared to do if Florence had been there.
Nella looked at them and smiled. ‘There’s nothing too good for them bairns! And, as I’m nivver gannin’ to hev any of me own, you must allow me to spend me money on your children. That’s the next best thing.’
Constance laid the dresses back in the box and folded them into the tissue paper. ‘Very well.’
She stared out of the window. The branches of the trees were bending and swaying in the wind, but at least it hadn’t rained today. She wondered whether it grieved Nella that she would never have children, that she would never have a normal marriage. But then, what was normal? Certainly not her own marriage and even her two daughters had not been ... were not...
‘Ee, Constance, look at this mess!’
She turned to find Nella on the floor with the girls, trying to wipe the dribbled, sticky crumbs from their faces. Amy submitted to her ministrations patiently but Beatrice howled with rage and squirmed out of the way.
‘She’s a bad ’un!’ Nella said, but she smiled in spite of herself.
They both looked at Beatrice and neither of them spoke for a while. Then Nella crawled over to an easy chair, just as one of the children would have done, and pulled herself up. She settled back amongst the cushions with a sigh. Constance sat down at the other side of the hearth. She guessed that her friend was going to tell her something. And what it would be.
‘It is possible, Constance,’ Nella said finally, ‘because of what happened to you only one night before yer wedding night, and the evidence of the birthmark, it is perfectly possible - and likely - that the girls hev different fathers.’
Constance stared at her. ‘You asked Frank Alvini, didn’t you?’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because you’re talking like a textbook - and who else do you know who is studying medicine?’
‘Yes, I asked Frank. Do you mind?’
‘It’s too late if I do.’
‘Divven’t look at me like that. You can trust Frank. And he doesn’t think any the worse of you, if that’s what’s bothering you. He’s not the kind of man that would think it the woman’s fault for being raped.’
‘Hush, the children!’
The twins had lain down where she’d left them and were looking drowsy. Nella glanced guiltily at them and then she smiled ruefully. ‘I don’t think they understand what we’re saying, but I’ll keep me voice down, anyway.’
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