The Buffer Girls (31 page)

Always a truthful girl, Amy was obliged to nod.

‘Then you tell me.’

Amy bit her lip before saying, ‘He . . . he got someone he knows in the city to . . . to spy on them.’

Constance’s eyes narrowed. ‘I can see you are finding
this very difficult, my dear, so I’ll save you the embarrassment. Was it his mistress, by any chance, Belle
Beauman?’

Amy gasped and stared at the woman, who smiled wryly and sighed. ‘Oh yes, I know all about Belle Beauman. I’ve known for years.’ Constance considered the girl for a moment. The
older woman had few real friends, other than perhaps Grace Partridge, and none she dared confide
in. Oh, she was well known and well respected in the village, but that was not quite the same as
having a confidante. But she felt instinctively that Amy, young though she was, could be trusted not to gossip. The girl had been the subject of speculation herself recently and knew what it felt
like – though, in fairness, the tales had not been malicious. If anything, taking their lead from Constance
herself and from Grace Partridge, the villagers had rallied round and been very
protective of one of their own. She wondered, though, what sort of reception young Josh would get now that he was back. Constance almost laughed aloud as she visualized Josh being attacked by a few
umbrellas when the women of the village saw him again.

‘I suppose it must sound strange to you that I have stayed
with my husband, knowing that he was being unfaithful.’ She paused a moment, but Amy sat quietly waiting for her to
continue.

‘Divorce is an ugly, messy business in any society and I stayed with him and turned a blind eye for several reasons, really. I suppose the main one was Thomas.’ She was silent for a
moment, thinking how to phrase her explanation, which might sound mercenary to the
young girl who was so in love with Josh.

‘My husband and I were not head over heels in love with each other when we married. We were good friends, we liked each other and we both wanted certain things out of a marriage. Being an
only child and not particularly pretty, I wanted security and I wanted children. Arthur needed the money I could bring to the marriage from my father. A dowry, if
you like. So, it was an
arrangement that suited us both. And then there was Thomas.’ She paused again and her voice shook a little as she added, ‘I never wanted him to be an only child, but I had two
miscarriages, after which the doctor told me I should have no more children. I was unlikely to survive if I tried again and I had no intention of leaving my Thomas motherless.’

‘I’m sorry,’
Amy whispered, and she was. She felt empathy with the woman. Even after all these years, Amy could still see the pain in Constance’s eyes. Harry’s
birth had been surprisingly easy and Amy hoped to have more children now that Josh was coming back and they were to be married, whatever Martha Ryan said.

‘So you see, in a way, I can’t blame Arthur. Men have their needs and it wasn’t as if I
was hopelessly in love with him. My heart, Amy, is still intact, I can assure
you.’ She met Amy’s gaze steadily. ‘Are you disgusted at me?’

‘Heavens, no,’ Amy said swiftly. ‘Your world is very different to ours, Mrs Trippet.’ Knowing that the woman had paid her a huge compliment by confiding in her in this
way, Amy felt bold enough to add, ‘But I feel sorry for you.’

‘Don’t be, my
dear,’ Constance said briskly. ‘I am quite content. I have everything I need and I have my wonderful son. At least . . .’ She paused and now there was
real fear in her eyes. ‘Amy, he is going to be all right, isn’t he? I mean, he’s not seriously ill? You would tell me?’

Amy shook her head and smiled. ‘He’ll be fine. He just needs rest and good food.’

‘Then he must come home where I can
look after him.’

‘But his father . . . ?’

Constance stood up, determination in her action. ‘For once, his father will do as I say. Now, let us go down and see Cook. She will pack up a hamper and Kirkland –’ Constance
referred to their chauffeur-cum-handyman – ‘can go back with you. I don’t want Thomas to be a burden on you. Later today, after Mr Trippet gets home and I’ve spoken to him
–’ her tone hardened with determination – ‘Kirkland can fetch Thomas home in the car.’

‘That’s very kind of you, about the hamper, I mean, but please, let us do this for Trip. He’s our friend. Let him stay with us until he feels a little better and until
you’ve spoken to his father. I’m sorry to have to say it, but Trip won’t come home if his father is here.’

‘Well, if you’re sure.’
Constance didn’t want to insult the girl, but she was aware that an extra – very hungry – mouth to feed might be a strain on the
smithy’s resources.

‘I am,’ Amy said firmly. ‘And if there are any . . . problems, he can stay longer with us.’

As they walked to the door of the morning room together, Constance patted her hand and said, ‘Thank you for coming to see me, my dear. It can’t have
been easy for you.’

Amy looked up into the older woman’s eyes and said candidly, ‘You’re a nice lady, Mrs Trippet. Everyone says so.’

Constance laughed. ‘That’s good to know. I take part in a lot of the village activities, but I often feel I haven’t any real friends, except perhaps Grace Partridge. We get on
very well, but –’ she squeezed Amy’s hand gently – ‘I feel as if I’ve made one
today.’

‘Thank you,’ Amy said huskily, touched by the woman’s sincerity. ‘And I feel the same.’ She, too, felt as if she now had someone else she could turn to if she
needed help or advice. Not for the first time in her life, she felt the lack of a mother’s presence in her life. However close she was to her wonderful father, just now and then a girl needed
a mother figure. She had felt
it most keenly when giving birth to Harry, even though Mrs Partridge – the closest woman she had to a mother – had been beside her holding her hand.

When Amy arrived home, Harry was safely in his cot for a nap and Trip was still asleep, but later she told him, ‘Your mother wants you to go home. She said Kirkland would fetch you in the
car this evening, but I’ve persuaded her to let you stay
with us a little longer. Just until you’re feeling stronger and until she’s had time to talk to Mr Trippet.’

Trip shook his head. ‘I can’t go home. I don’t want to cause trouble for her. My father can be nasty when he’s in a temper and I’ve just witnessed the worst
I’ve ever seen him.’

‘Your mother seemed very strong to me. Very determined.’

Trip blinked. ‘Really? I’ve never thought
of her like that.’

‘Oh, I think she is. She knew all about Belle Beauman. She said she’d known about her for years.’

The news obviously came as a surprise to Trip, who was thoughtful for some moments. ‘You’re right,’ he said slowly. ‘She’s shown great courage. I presume she stayed
because of me.’

Amy nodded. ‘That was part of it, yes, a big part, I’d say, but also, just think, Trip,
if she’d left your father, where would she have gone, how would she have lived? It
wouldn’t have been easy and – if your father had been vindictive—’

Trip laughed ironically. ‘And he would have been, believe me.’

‘Then he’d have seen her penniless and, no doubt, have prevented her from ever seeing you again.’

Trip sighed. ‘She may have had some money of her own left to her by her
father, but I’ve no idea about that and you’re right about one thing: Father would definitely have had
custody of me. Poor Mother.’

‘She told me she was content enough. She has her interests and, above all else, she has you. I think the only real sadness in her life was the loss of her babies. She would have loved to
have had more children.’

‘And I would have liked to have had brothers
and sisters. Still,’ he added, smiling, ‘I have you and Josh and – and Emily, if – if . . .’

‘Oh there’s no “if” about it. You wait and see, once Josh has told Emily he’s found you and all about what happened, she’ll be on this doorstep within hours.
You mark my words.’

During the afternoon, there was a knock at the Clarks’ back door. Amy opened it to find Constance Trippet standing there.

‘I hope this is not an intrusion, but I would like to see Thomas.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘I couldn’t keep away.’

‘Of course, Mrs Trippet, please come in. He’s in the parlour.’ As she closed the door and led her visitor through to the best room,
Amy said, ‘He had quite a good
breakfast and he’s eaten a little dinner. His colour’s better, but he’s still very tired. Here we are.’ She opened the door quietly and tiptoed in. Trip was lying on the
sofa, his head on two cushions. He was sound asleep.

‘Don’t wake him, Amy. I’ll just sit here with him, if you don’t mind.’

‘Of course. I’ll bring you some tea.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t want
to trouble you. You must be busy. And your little boy . . .’

‘Harry’s fine. He’s in his playpen in the kitchen. So no, it’s no trouble. I could do with a cuppa myself.’

‘Then, if you’re sure, a cup of tea would be most welcome.’

They had been talking in whispers, but Trip stirred and, as Amy left the room, he rubbed his eyes and sat up.

‘Mother! Whatever are you doing here?’

‘I’ve come to see you, my dear, and to take you home.’

‘I . . . can’t go home. He—’

‘I know all about what’s happened and you’re coming home with me.
I
will deal with your father.’ There was more determination and spirit in her tone than Trip
could ever remember hearing before.

‘I don’t want to cause trouble between you and Father.’

‘You won’t,’ Constance said shortly.

‘You
mean – you mean, you agree with him.’

‘I most certainly do
not
. I want you to marry for love and for no other reason, Thomas. If it is Emily Ryan you love – and you’re really sure about that – then
so be it.’

Trip sat up straight, startled by what his mother had said. ‘You really mean it?’

Constance nodded. ‘My sole purpose in life is your happiness. Now, my dear, will you please
come home?’

Trip hesitated a moment longer before nodding and murmuring, ‘I really shouldn’t encroach on the Clarks’ kindness any longer, but—’

At that moment there was a commotion outside the door of Amy’s parlour and a loud voice saying, ‘But I must see him, Amy.’

‘That’s Emily,’ Trip said, making as if to rise, but his legs were still weak and he fell back against the cushions.

Instead, Constance went to the door and opened it. ‘Emily, my dear, do come in.’ And Emily rushed into the room and flung herself down on the sofa next to him.

‘Oh, Trip, Trip, are you all right?’

He smiled and opened his arms to her. She leaned against him and wept.

‘There, there,’ he comforted. ‘It’s going to be all right. Mother’s on our side.’

Emily raised her head and stared
at him. ‘She is?’ Then she twisted round to look at Constance, who had resumed her seat. ‘You are?’

‘I just want Thomas to be happy, and if you’re the one to make him happy, then—’

‘Oh I will, I will. I promise I will. But his father has disowned him. I can’t allow Trip – I mean, Thomas – to lose his inheritance. He might come to hate me for
it.’

‘Never,’ Trip said, with more strength
in his voice than any of them in the room had thought possible.

‘I’ll bring that tea I promised. And an extra cup.’ Amy, who had followed Emily into the room, turned and left. She was no longer involved in the decisions to be made.

‘Oh Trip,’ Emily said. ‘I love you so much. I couldn’t let you give up everything for me.’

‘And I love you enough to do just that. Besides,’ he added, with
a spark of his old humour, ‘I’m expecting my clever wife, with her growing business empire, to keep
me
.’

Emily pulled a face. ‘It’s a long way from being an empire. My mother calls it a tin-pot business.’

Trip touched her face tenderly. ‘Then she hasn’t got the faith in you that I have.’

Constance cleared her throat, reminding them that she was still there. She was about to speak,
but Amy came in carrying a tray with three cups of tea on it, ‘You’ll excuse me not
joining you,’ she said tactfully as she handed them out, ‘but I must see to Harry.’

‘I can’t wait to meet my nephew, Amy,’ Emily said, letting the girl know that she understood and accepted the situation.

Amy was about to leave the room, but she turned back briefly to ask hesitantly, ‘Has – has Josh spoken
to his mother yet?’

‘I left early, so I don’t know. It won’t be easy, but he’s determined to come back here, Amy. Don’t worry. I’m on his side. I never thought we should have
gone to the city in the first place; though,’ she turned and gazed at Trip once more, ‘if we hadn’t, I might not have found Trip again.’

After Amy had left the room once more and the three had drunk their tea, Constance
said, ‘So, Thomas, you will come home, won’t you?’

Trip sighed. ‘Father will never allow it.’

‘I’ve thrown him out.’

At the same time as Constance was sitting in Amy’s comfortable parlour, Arthur was visiting Belle. For several weeks, Arthur had kept the news from her. He had fully expected his son to
come crawling back, begging forgiveness and promising never to see Emily Ryan again.
But it had not happened. Arthur was angry that he had misjudged Thomas and yet somewhere deep inside him –
though he would never acknowledge it – there was a sliver of pride that his son was made of sterner stuff than Arthur had supposed. Having always dictated the progress of his son’s life
– boarding school, starting work in the lowest position in the factory – Arthur had not realized
that his son had become a man; a man who was prepared to fight for what he wanted
– for the woman he wanted.

At his words, Belle paled. ‘What – what do you mean?’

‘I’ve disowned him. No son of mine is going to ally himself with a common slut like Emily Ryan – the daughter, I may say, of my former cleaning woman.’

‘He refused to stop seeing her?’ For the woman who had been brought
up in the back streets of the city and who had lived on her wits and her looks, the thought that anyone could turn
their back on a comfortable lifestyle and their future handed to them on a plate, was absurd.