Family Drama 4 E-Book Bundle (73 page)

When she woke next morning, Dottie was alone once again. As she lay in bed, a faint smile played on her lips as she recalled the previous day and one moment in particular. It was when Patsy had looked up at her, her face purple with berry juice.

‘Have you been eating them?'

Patsy's eyes had gone wide with apprehension. ‘No!'

Dottie had raised her eyebrows and put her head on one side with a sceptical expression.

‘Well,' Patsy added, relaxing, ‘not many,' and the air had been filled with John's laughter.

Reg still had not returned home. Where was he? Had he left her? The thought brought a rush of guilty pleasure. Now that the clocks had gone back, the mornings were dark. Dottie switched on the bedside light and lay in the bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror on the wardrobe.

As the clock ticked around to six thirty, Dottie climbed out of bed. Lifting her nightdress, she looked at her gently rounded stomach and caressed her skin. If only this child were John's. Her own words came back to haunt her. What was it she'd told him? ‘My marriage vows are important to me …' something like that. If that were really true, then why was she so glad Reg wasn't here? Even if he never came back, a man like John wouldn't want a ready-made family. He'd want his own. How would she support Patsy and her own baby? She spread her fingers across
her abdomen as if she were holding the baby within. Whatever she felt about Reg, this was his baby. Patsy had no mother but she still had her father. This baby had both a father and a mother. If she pushed Reg away, what sort of a life would her baby have?

Aunt Bessie had never approved of her marriage, Dottie knew that, but on the day she'd married Reg, she had given her some sound advice. ‘You've made your choice, darling,' Aunt Bessie said, not unkindly, ‘now make it work.'

It was a sobering thought, but it was up to her now. Dottie resolved from here on in, for the sake of her baby, she'd better forget John Landers and make more of a go of her marriage.

Patsy called from her room, ‘Is it time to get up yet, Aunt Dottie?'

Dropping her nightdress, Dottie reached for her housecoat. ‘It certainly is, love. Back to school today.'

Reg flexed his fingers. Bruised and sore, the skin on his knuckles was broken. After a couple of days away from that cow of a wife and that snotty kid, he'd hatched a plan and come back to Worthing. On his way back to the cottage, he'd been waylaid. He hadn't reckoned on the bloke sneaking up on him. He'd better keep his hand in his pocket. Nobody would give him a lift if they saw the state of him.

He stood on the grass verge and stuck out his thumb. Best to get away for a few days. Lie low. With a bit of luck, no one saw him get off the train but he couldn't bloody count on it. Trouble was, it was still light. He should have gone to the pub before he went home. That way the bloke wouldn't have seen him. Who was he anyway? And how did he know his name? As far as Reg knew, he'd never seen him in his life before, although he did look a bit like that dirty old tramp who used to come sniffing around the cottage when Bessie was alive.

‘Not me, mate,' he'd said but if the truth were known, he'd nearly died of shock.

‘I know what you've done,' the bloke shouted after him, ‘but you'll never get away with it.'

For a few seconds, Reg had been rooted to the spot but then the need for survival kicked in. He'd dashed into the shed and grabbed the first thing that came to hand. The hammer. Then he'd stalked the bloke. Caught up with him by the fields.

One whack on the side of his head with the hammer felled him like a bloody tree. He hadn't lost his touch. He'd booted and punched the body until he was sure he wouldn't be telling anybody anything and then he'd toed him into the ditch.

It didn't seem like anyone had seen him, but just to be on the safe side Reg went back to the cottage and collected his bag, hid the hammer in his shed and hit the road. He almost left the hammer where it fell but went back – PC Kipling might recognise it.

A lorry pulled up. ‘Where you goin', boyo?'

‘Where are you going?'

‘Lewes.'

‘That'll do me,' he said, climbing into the cab.

By late afternoon on Wednesday, Reg was still away and it was beginning to get to Dottie. He had never been away so long before.

After school, Dottie had arranged that she and Patsy would meet up with John again. She'd mentioned a walk along the seafront from Goring to Ferring, and he'd jumped at her suggestion to spend time with Patsy.

Mr Marney had come up to the cottage the night before.

‘I've no idea where Reg is,' she told him truthfully.

Marney was none too pleased.

‘He's been under a lot of strain just lately,' Dottie went on. She didn't want to make excuses for him, but how were they going to manage if Reg lost his job? ‘He needed a little break, that's all.'

‘You're supposed to book your holidays,' Marney snapped, ‘not just take them when you fancy.'

Just before lunch, Dottie walked down the garden, looking over her shoulder every now and then in case she saw the tramp hanging around. She wasn't even sure why she was thinking about him again. He hadn't been around since that morning when Sylvie frightened him off, but last night, just before she drifted off to sleep, Dottie found herself wondering what it was he was going to tell her. Did he know something about Aunt Bessie's death?

Clucking noisily, the chickens dashed up to the wire as soon as she opened the door, clearly thinking it was feeding time again. Dottie checked inside the henhouse for eggs, slipping her hand under one hen where she sat. The egg was still warm.

The pig grunted and put his snout over the top of the fence. He was getting so big, it wouldn't be long before he broke it down and ran amok. Michael and Gerald Gilbert were supposed to be coming sometime to take him to market. Judging by the size of Porker, it couldn't be a moment too soon.

When Dottie and John met, Patsy couldn't stop talking. He heard all about Patsy's day at school from beginning to end. Eventually she ran off with the dog while Dottie and John strolled behind. It was a crisp afternoon and the cloud base was low. The tide was out and the place was deserted apart from the odd walker or two. They walked along the edge of the pebble bank, with the sea on one side and a rough area of green the other. Dottie felt so at ease in his company.

‘How come you ended up in Australia?'

His face clouded. ‘I needed to get away,' he said quietly. ‘When I got back home …'

‘From the war?'

He nodded. ‘My wife and I were strangers. She had met someone else so in the end, it was better to part.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry, John.'

He shrugged. ‘These things happen. It was nobody's fault.'

‘Do you have any children?'

‘No … fortunately.'

‘But why Australia?'

He laughed. ‘A friend was supposed to be going but at the last minute he came down with shingles of all things. I was able to take his place. It was only supposed to be for a short time, but I ended up staying there for four years.'

‘Coming back here …' she began. ‘It must be so different.'

‘I hadn't planned to come back at all,' he said. ‘But my mother needed me. And now …' He looked directly at her. ‘I'm not sure I even want to go back.'

Dottie heart was pounding. She couldn't think what to say. She knew what she
wanted
to say. ‘I really enjoy being with you too. You're so wonderful with Patsy …' but she couldn't say that, could she? It was far too familiar and besides, she was pregnant with Reg's child for goodness' sake!

In truth, when she was with John she had never been happier. She and Patsy were becoming very close as well. Their latest venture together had been making a shoebox dolls' house. Dottie had helped Patsy cut out the windows and doors, and then Patsy had decorated the outside with flowers and the inside with pictures on the wall. They'd used matchboxes covered with scraps of material to make a bed, table and a couple of chairs. After that, Dottie had shown Patsy how to make a wool doll to go inside.

‘I'll make a brown one like me and you make a pink one like you,' Patsy had said.

‘I've only got some red wool,' Dottie said.

‘That's near enough,' said Patsy.

Remembering, Dottie smiled to herself.

‘Penny for them,' John said.

‘It's nothing,' she smiled. There was another thing she wouldn't
tell John. Not yet anyway. Patsy was embroidering a tray cloth. It was to be a Christmas present for John's mother.

All at once, the heavens opened and it began to rain, not just fine rain but big drops, bursting with water as they fell.

‘Quick,' Dottie pointed to a clump of Ilex oak trees in the distance. ‘Head over there, for the Plantation.'

John grabbed Patsy's hand and they out-ran her. As Dottie raced after them, her heart bursting with the joy of watching them as they shrieked with laughter and Minnie barked and jumped at their heels. John hurried into the thickest part, searching out a large bough, heavy with green leaves, which would give them maximum shelter from the wet.

As he turned to Dottie he called out, ‘Mind that tree!' But it was too late. She hadn't noticed that she was heading towards a small sapling covered in low-level newly grown branches. Dottie's head was yanked back as her hair became entangled in its branches.

‘Ow!'

‘Hang on a minute,' John said as she struggled to free herself. It was no use. The more she tried to free her hair, the more entangled it became. She was stuck fast.

‘Ouch … Ow …'

In a moment he was by her side, doing his best to untangle her.

‘Sorry …' His fingers moved deftly and he was being as gentle as he could. How long had he desired to touch her hair? It was like silk, sensual … It smelled of gardenias.

‘Aah …'

‘Sorry …'

‘It's all right,' laughed Dottie. ‘I'm just being an absolute baby. Ow!'

Their faces were very close, so close that every time he breathed out, his exhaled air, feather-like, touched her cheek and she felt more alive than she'd ever felt in her whole life.

‘There,' he smiled, as a tendril of her hair flopped across her face. Their eyes met and she was aware that her heart was beginning to pound once more. She was seized by the most powerful yearning to touch him. She looked away quickly.

She felt his hand on her arm, as light as a feather. ‘You know,' he said softly, ‘I never knew it until now, but I think I've been waiting for something like this all my life. Is this kismet?'

She glanced up at him. ‘What's kismet?'

‘That you and I were destined to meet even before we were even born.'

He leaned his head against hers and she felt his lips brush her cheek. It made her weak at the knees. ‘Oh John …' she moaned softly, ‘… don't … we mustn't.'

Yet she offered no resistance as he bent his head and his lips touched hers. Cupping her face in his hands, he said, ‘I went all the way to Australia, and you were here all the time.'

She could feel his breath touching her mouth, as gentle as the flutter of a butterfly's wings. Her whole body was yearning for him. She closed her eyes.

‘Is Auntie Dottie free yet?' Patsy's voice broke the spell instantly.

‘Yes,' called John. ‘She's free.'

Dottie opened her eyes. ‘No, John,' she said quietly as she looked directly into John's eyes. ‘Auntie Dottie isn't free.' Then, calling to Patsy she said, ‘Coming.'

His fingers searched for hers as they walked towards Patsy but she drew her hand away. What madness. She should never have allowed that to happen and she hated herself for it. As they waited together under the bough of the tree for the rain to stop, Dottie could hardly breathe.

John was standing very close to her. Too close. One minute his hand was resting on the bough of a tree, the next he was playing with the curls on the nape of her neck. Blushing furiously,
Dottie tried to edge away from him but there was little space to move. ‘Don't,' she pleaded softly.

‘What makes it rain?' Patsy asked.

‘When moisture in the cloud becomes too heavy, it falls to the ground as rain,' John explained.

Dottie's mind was elsewhere. She'd been in the Plantation a hundred times but, even with the rain pouring all around them, it had never seemed more beautiful. Had the grass always been this green? And why hadn't she ever noticed how musical the rain sounded? She could hardly bear to look at John for fear that he would try and kiss her in front of Patsy. You're a married woman, she reminded herself sternly. You mustn't encourage him. It's not fair.

‘Will it snow?' asked Patsy.

‘It's not cold enough for snow,' said John.

‘What makes it snow?'

‘That's when the rain starts off as ice crystals,' John explained. ‘They fall through warmer air and land on the earth as snowflakes.'

He was so patient with her, so loving.

‘Right now, the air is warm enough to melt the snowflake and change it into a rain drop.'

Inside, Dottie sighed. Damn you, Reg, damn you.

The rain stopped and they came out of the Plantation to walk to his car. The sky was still heavy with clouds but it had never seemed so vast, so empty.

She deliberately didn't meet his eye all the way back to the car, and yet she was acutely aware of him walking beside her. Patsy chattered away beside them and Minnie trotted at their feet.

He unlocked the driver's door then leaned in to open the back passenger door. Patsy and Minnie clambered in.

‘Uncle John,' Patsy said. ‘This is my best day ever.'

‘Good. I'm really glad,' he said looking over the top of the car
at Dottie waiting by the passenger door. ‘I think it's been my best day ever as well. And what about you, Auntie Dottie?' he said teasingly. Dottie felt her cheeks flush. ‘What sort of day have you had?'