Eve and Her Sisters (39 page)

It was useless to deny it. ‘Yes, Mrs Ramshawe.’

‘Aye, that’s right. Nice shop, the Co-op. For them that can afford it. Must seem strange coming back, now you live in the city. Everywhere seem small, does it?’

‘Not really.’

‘There’s another one soon to be off but then you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’

‘I’m sorry?’ Eve looked more closely at Mrs Ramshawe.

‘Caleb Travis. I suppose Nell’s told you about him selling up, what with the three of you working for him for so long?’ There was a slight emphasis on the last words. Mrs Ramshawe hadn’t forgotten this one’s beginnings and however high she’d risen it didn’t hurt to be reminded of where she’d come from.

Eve stared at the broad flat face, utterly taken aback. ‘She hasn’t?’ Mrs Ramshawe was delighted. It wasn’t often she was the first with news. ‘Oh aye, he’s selling the inn and going abroad, I hear. I couldn’t believe it meself when I first got to know. I mean, his da was born an’ bred in these parts an’ his granda before him, an’ that inn was his da’s pride and joy. I’d never have thought Caleb would let it go. But there, that’s another generation for you. Come too easy to him, if you want my opinion.’

Eve didn’t. ‘He’s leaving? When?’

‘Oh, I don’t know that, lass. I’m not exactly in his confidence, you know.’ Mrs Ramshawe laughed at her witticism but then stopped abruptly when Eve turned from her and entered Nell’s house without another word. Well! Mrs Ramshawe glared after her. Didn’t that just prove you couldn’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. No manners, no manners at all. She might be dressed like a lady but that’s where it ended.

In Nell’s kitchen Eve sat down heavily on the settle and the long shuddering breath she sighed seemed to deflate her body. He was going to leave Washington, leave the country. There would be no chance she would ever see him again. She wouldn’t know where he was or what he was doing.

But she had left here, hadn’t she? she argued with herself in the next moment. She had purposely cut her losses and moved on, even going so far as to make sure there was no contact between them.

But that was different. Rising from the settle, she walked over to the window and looked out into Nell’s back yard. Even though she was elsewhere, she had known he was
here.
She found she was ringing her hands and turned from the window, panic uppermost. He couldn’t just disappear. She would have to get an address, know where he was, write to him.

Oh, don’t be stupid.The argument went on. How could she suggest writing to him when for the last eight or nine years they’d had nothing to do with each other? He would think she was mad. Worse, he might suspect how she felt about him. But she couldn’t just let him go. She moaned deep in her throat. Everyone she loved, she lost. Her mam and grandma, her da and the lads, Mary,William, Howard, and worst of all her darling boy, her Oliver. Was it her? Did she have some sort of curse on her that reached out and touched those she cared about?

A storm of weeping followed and she had only just dried her eyes and washed her face in cold water when the horse and cart from the Co-op clip-clopped to a standstill in the back lane. She had asked them to deliver by the back way, thinking it would attract less attention, but she didn’t doubt Mrs Ramshawe, for one, would monitor everything that went into the house.

She tipped the man sixpence for carrying the sack of flour and sack of potatoes into a corner of the kitchen, and when he had gone she put everything away.Then she made herself a pot of tea. She opened the blue bag of sugar the delivery man had brought and had two strong cups of tea one after the other, with plenty of sugar in each cup. Since living in Newcastle she had found she liked her tea sweet, it always seemed to give her something of a lift. And she needed a lift right now.

After making herself a sandwich with the beef and a couple of shives of bread from the loaf she had bought, she had one last cup of tea. The sandwich stuck in her throat and she had to force it down but she knew she needed something in her stomach. It was now gone two in the afternoon and she’d last eaten at eight o’clock that morning before leaving Newcastle. She couldn’t afford to feel faint. Not in view of what she was going to do.

Could she carry it off ? She sat at Nell’s kitchen table, the butterflies in her stomach dancing. Could she manoeuvre things so the last umpteen years were put to one side and it would seem natural to suggest they correspond once he left England’s shores? She didn’t know, she only knew she had to try or she would regret it for the rest of her life.

She walked over to the spotted brown mirror and peered at her reflection, tidying her hair. She was glad she hadn’t been tempted to have her hair cut in one of these new bobs where it was shingled into a permanent wave. At least she still looked like the same old Eve, almost. But she wasn’t the same girl who had left Washington all those years ago. She had been married. She had borne two precious children and suffered the worst loss of her life. Perhaps Caleb had changed too. Perhaps she wouldn’t feel the same when she saw him.

She shook her head at herself.That was ludicrous. But was she doing the right thing in attempting to maintain contact in the future? Would it cause more pain than anything else? What about when the inevitable happened and he met someone? Fell in love, married?

Enough. She turned away from the pain-filled eyes in the mirror. Right or wrong, she couldn’t let go completely. It was as simple as that.

Caleb stood polishing a glass at the bar. He was quietly whistling to himself. The estate agent had been right, the old goat. All along the man had said not to lose heart when potential buyers had been thin on the ground due to ‘the present economic climate’, as he’d put it. You only need one, he had said. Be patient. And now that one had come along and he hadn’t had to drop the asking price much either. He’d be leaving this country with money in his pocket and the day couldn’t come soon enough. He’d had a bellyful of England.

He put the glass down and picked up another. He had been sickened by what he’d seen over the last few months, the bully-boy tactics Churchill and his crew had employed to grind good honest working men into the ground. All the misery and suffering and hatred, and what would come of it? Nowt. Families were eating food that should have gone to pigs and making blankets out of old newspapers, and the heartbreaking thing was, every jack man knew that sooner or later they’d be forced to knuckle under and go cap in hand to the mine owners. For himself, he wanted no part of a country ruled by a government where working men and women were given less consideration than the mine owners’ horses and dogs.

Shaking himself mentally, he put down the glass and signalled to one of his two barmaids he was going out the back. He had had a late breakfast that morning and hadn’t wanted a bite at lunchtime, but now his stomach was after thinking his throat had been cut. In the corner were a couple of old boys his father had been friendly with, both ex-miners, and they had been nursing a half pint of bitter for the last hour, two mangy fox terriers asleep across their feet under the table. Quietly, Caleb pulled two foaming pints of beer and told the barmaid to take them across. ‘Compliments of the house,’ he murmured, and then went out the back quickly so they didn’t have to thank him.

Ada was in the kitchen. Winnie had been in bed all day with something Ada had described briefly that morning as ‘women’s monthly trouble’.

He had just sat down at the table and was about to begin eating a bowl of Ada’s thick mutton broth, which was second to none, when they heard a knock from beyond the scullery at the back door of the inn. Ada looked at him. ‘You expecting a delivery?’ she asked as she went to answer it.

‘No.’ He started on the broth. He heard Ada’s voice high and surprised and his eyes narrowed, then she came bustling through. He opened his mouth to ask what was what but the words were never voiced. He looked at the tall, slim woman behind Ada, and said weakly, ‘Eve.’ He could scarcely believe his eyes.

‘Hello, Caleb.’

He got to his feet, the blood rushing into his face. If Prime Minister Baldwin himself had suddenly materialised, he couldn’t have been more amazed. ‘What-what are you doing here?’

Quietly, she said, ‘I’ve come to see Nell but she’s not in. Her nextdoor neighbour said Toby’s gone on a march and Nell and the bairns are picking tatties somewhere or other.’

‘Aye, they have to take any work they can get, along with scratting for rags to make clippy mats to sell or following the carthorses for the manure.’ Talk natural, don’t let her see how she’s affected you, not with her standing there as cool as a cucumber. ‘The bairns’ schooling comes second these days.’

She nodded. ‘I don’t know where it will all end.’

‘Oh, I know where it will end. With the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer, same as always.’

They stared at each other for a moment and it was Ada who broke what had become a tense pause by saying, ‘Sit yourself down, lass. I’ve just made a pot of tea for Caleb if you’d like a cup? It’s a hot day for travelling, I’ll be bound.’

‘Thank you, Ada. I’d love a cup.’

By, she was one of the gentry now. He dare bet her clothes, plain as they were, had cost a pretty penny. Their colour reminded him of her loss and his voice was softer when he said, ‘I was sorry to hear about your husband and son. We all were.’

Again she said, ‘Thank you.’

His stomach was turning over, he couldn’t eat the soup. Pushing it to one side, he said, ‘It’s been a long time, Eve.’

‘Yes, it has. Some six or seven years I think.’

Had she always been this cool and composed? Probably. Of the three sisters, Eve had been the quiet one.

‘I hope you don’t mind me coming, Caleb, but I find myself in something of a difficult position. I didn’t expect to find Nell out, I should have checked beforehand, I suppose, but I wanted to surprise her. As it is we’ll have no time together if I leave this evening as I’d planned to do. And I couldn’t impose on them for the night, you know how they’re placed. I wondered if one of the guest rooms here is free. I would pay the going rate, of course.’

Whenever he had imagined seeing her again, and he had imagined it, he admitted to himself, nights without number, he had seen himself taking the initiative. He’d strike just the right note, he’d be courteous but let her see she meant as little to him as he did to her. Now his guts were writhing and he had an anger welling up within that was so strong it frightened him.

He took a sip of the tea Ada had placed before him before he could trust himself to say coolly, ‘Of course you can stay, and as my guest. I wouldn’t dream of taking payment from an old friend.’ He glanced at her handbag. ‘You have no luggage?’

‘No, I didn’t expect I would be staying the night, as I said.’

And no doubt she would have come and gone without him knowing but for Nell being out. Damn it all, what had he ever done that she should treat him this way? He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand
her
. He had no false modesty about his attraction where the opposite sex were concerned. He didn’t class himself as handsome, he never had, but going away to war had opened his eyes to the fact that he had something women liked. He didn’t know what it was but nevertheless it enabled him to have feminine company when he wanted it, and without paying for it either. But he could have been fashioned from a lump of wood as far as Eve was concerned. And even the friendship he’d thought they’d had and which he had prized so highly, looking back, had proved to mean little to her.

‘Your old room is unoccupied.’ He didn’t add that he hadn’t let that room since she had left because he was, in truth, ashamed of the sentiment behind it. ‘Would you like me to show you up now so you can rest while you wait for Nell to come back?’

‘Drink your tea first.’ For a moment a glimmer of the old caring Eve was there.

‘It’s all right.’ He stood up and she rose with him. ‘I think there might even be a couple of your old books still in the room.Would you like Ada to bring you a tray in a minute?’

‘No, no, I’ve recently eaten.’

He opened the door of the kitchen and let her precede him into the passageway which led to the stairs to the upper floors.As she passed him, he became aware of the scent of her, a composite of fresh, newly laundered clothes, and clean skin and hair. There was something else too, a faint smell of roses or something similar.Whatever, he felt his mood harden and his voice was gruff when he said, ‘I wasn’t thinking, the bed won’t be made up but it won’t take a minute for me to do.’

‘Oh no, I’ll do it. I’ve made quite a few beds in my time.’

‘But not in latter years.’

They had reached the landing and as she paused to let him lead the way, she said quietly, ‘No, not in latter years.’

When they reached the room he did not open the door immediately. Instead he turned and looked at her. ‘How are you, Eve? The last year must have been very hard for you.’

For the first time since she had walked into the inn, she appeared slightly discomfited. Stammering a little, she said, ‘I-I am better than I was at-at first.’

He nodded. ‘Is it still too painful to talk about?’

There was a faint touch of colour in her cheeks and her green eyes seemed to dominate her face. He wondered how there had ever been a time when he had not noticed her unusual beauty. But that was it, it was unusual. You had to look for it, it was not obvious and brash as Mary’s had been.

She lowered her lashes. ‘No, not really. Alexander, my younger son, has helped in that regard. He talks about his brother often, they were very close.’

There was an ethereal quality to her these days that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps grief had done that. He had the mad impulse to take her in his arms. Not for any other reason but to comfort her. But she wouldn’t want his comfort. She was a self-contained and mature woman, not the young lass he had once known. And a wealthy woman to boot. Clearing his throat, he opened the door to the room. ‘He’s at home? Your son?’