While We're Apart (6 page)

Mary was warmed by the thought as she repaired the puncture and fitted the tyre back on the front wheel. Jack would look very handsome in his uniform, she just knew it, and his surprise at her turning up would make the trip worthwhile. His parents might be there to see him off, but that didn't matter, for they knew how things were between Jack and Mary, and approved. And if they were there, then they'd surely offer to put her bike in the back of their farm truck and give her a lift home, which would be marvellous.

She glanced up at the clock. It was after four, but if she could have supper ready on the dot of six, then . . .

The telephone rang in the hall and she heard her father sigh before he tramped across the scarred parquet floor to answer it. Mary hoped it wasn't something that would take him out on such a filthy day. He was already tired after a late night with the grieving Mrs Burton, who had just learnt that her husband had been killed at El Alamein.

She wheeled the bike back outside. Covering it quickly with a sheet of old tarpaulin, she returned to the relative warmth of the kitchen. Her father was still on the telephone, and she fervently hoped it wasn't the Bishop, for he was a pedantic, hectoring man who expected far too much from his overworked vicar, and made Gideon nervous and depressed.

Mary checked the large saucepan of vegetable soup she'd made the day before, and decided there was just enough left for three small helpings. She then began to peel the potatoes to go with the evening meal of liver and onions, glad to have the kitchen to herself for a while. Emmaline was still in bed with a hot-water bottle in an attempt to ease the awful pains in her joints, and although Mary felt genuinely sorry that she was so unwell, it didn't alter the fact that she felt far more comfortable without her.

‘That was Dr Haywood,' said Gideon as he came into the kitchen some minutes later. ‘Old Mrs Perry is failing fast and not expected to last the night.' He wearily scrubbed his face with his hands and gave her a wan smile. ‘I must go to her, Mary, she's been asking for me.'

‘Oh, Dad,' she sighed as she put a consoling hand on his arm. ‘You're already exhausted after last night.'

‘I know, my dear, but Mrs Perry has been a parishioner here for over eighty years, and needs the comfort of prayer before she goes to God. I cannot fail her now.' He cleared his throat. ‘And neither can you,' he added regretfully. ‘I'm sorry, Mary, but I will need you to come with me to look after Gladys.'

Mary glanced anxiously at the clock, and then was deeply ashamed of her selfishness. Gladys was almost fifty, but had the mind and manner of an eight-year-old. She would be confused and frightened about what was happening to her mother, and Mary was mortified that she'd been thinking only of herself, and not what Mrs Perry's death would mean to her daughter. ‘Of course I'll come,' she said as she reached for their coats. ‘Has anyone told Mrs Perry's sister?'

‘The doctor said he'd drive over and tell her. I've never met her, but from what I've heard she's almost as elderly as Mrs Perry, so I doubt she'll want to turn out on such a night even though her sister's dying.' Gideon pulled on his coat and laced his brogues. ‘I'll just go up and tell your mother where we're going,' he muttered.

Mary's hopes of seeing Jack were doomed, and she wondered if it was God's way of punishing her for plotting and planning behind her parents' back. Perhaps her mother had been right all along about her sinful nature, for she was guilty of being devious.

She yanked on her wellingtons and shrugged into her overcoat as she felt the prick of tears. Poor Gladys. Her mother was her only mainstay, and if her aunt refused to take her in, she would be sent to live in the special hospital that Mrs Perry had resisted so determinedly ever since Gladys had been born.

Mary tramped into the hall and grabbed the car keys just as Gideon came downstairs. ‘Your mother is warm and comfortable,' he said as he reached for the black Gladstone bag on the hall table. It was always packed and ready for occasions such as these. ‘She said not to worry about her, and that she'd heat up some soup for her supper.'

Mary wrapped a scarf round her father's neck and handed him his hat. ‘Stay here in the dry while I fetch the car,' she murmured.

Before he could protest, she was out of the front door and running through the lashing downpour to the garage. Dragging back the wooden doors, she smeared the rain from her face, turned the starting handle, and climbed into the Austin 7. The luxury of having a car in these austere times was not abused, for her father needed it to get about his widespread parish, and he'd been granted extra petrol coupons for just this purpose.

Mary pressed the starter button and carefully reversed the car out of the garage and then drove it to the front steps, where her father was waiting anxiously beneath the porch. She smiled at his concerned expression as he climbed in, for his car was his pride and joy and he still didn't really approve of it being driven by anyone else – let alone his young daughter.

‘Slow down,' he said fretfully as the speedometer inched up to ten miles an hour. ‘And mind the hedge. You're getting much too close to it.'

Mary smiled and said nothing as she peered through the windscreen where the wipers were laboriously clearing the rain. With no street lights or moon to show her the way, she had to rely on the heavily shielded headlights that barely pierced the blackness of the country road, but she loved driving this car and just wished she could do it more often.

Gladys looked surprisingly calm as she opened the cottage door to them in her best cotton frock, hand-knitted cardigan, pyjama trousers and wellington boots. Her round face and rather blank eyes showed little sign of tears and she happily showed them into her mother's stifling bedroom, where a nurse sat by the bed.

‘Thank you for coming so promptly,' the nurse said as she stood to greet them. ‘I have another patient to see, so I'll leave you in peace if that's all right. There's nothing else I can do here, but I'm sure your presence will give her comfort.'

As the nurse quietly left the cottage and drove off to her next patient, Gladys turned to Mary. ‘Mummy says she's going to Heaven to be with Daddy,' she said, ‘and that I've got to be a good girl and not cry.' She kissed her mother's pale, sunken cheek and then gave Mary and her father a beaming smile. ‘Would you like some lemonade?'

Mary left her father with Mrs Perry and followed the girl into the hopelessly untidy kitchen at the back of the cottage. Dirty crockery and cooking pots were heaped in the sink and on the draining board, and the tiny black range was encrusted with spilt food. Despite the mess, Gladys had clearly been doing her best since her mother had taken to her bed, and Mary's heart went out to her.

‘Let's tidy up the kitchen and then we can have that lemonade.' She smiled into Gladys's trusting face. ‘Do you prefer to wash or dry?'

Gladys clapped her hands delightedly. ‘Oh, wash,' she replied. ‘And can we have lots of suds? I love suds.'

They spent almost an hour getting everything clean and tidied away, and while Gladys enjoyed her home-made lemonade with a digestive biscuit, Mary made a pot of tea and took a cup in to her father.

It was clear that Mrs Perry was close to the end, for her breathing rattled in her chest and her skin had taken on the waxen tone that heralded death. ‘Should I ask Gladys to come in so she can say goodbye?' Mary asked hesitantly.

‘You'll do no such thing.' The booming voice came from the doorway and startled them both. ‘The girl is quite incapable of understanding death, so why upset her?'

‘Mrs Wheatley,' said Gideon as he hurriedly got to his feet to greet the robust elderly woman in the ill-fitting tweed suit that seemed to be covered in cat hair. ‘I'm so glad you could come. It will be such a comfort to your sister to know you're here.'

The weathered face below the black hat glowered. ‘I doubt that very much,' Violet Wheatley said as she came into the room, her sturdily shod feet thudding on the wooden floor. She stood at the foot of the bed and frowned at the figure lying there. ‘Cora and I haven't spoken for years,' she muttered. ‘Nothing to say to each other after she married that wastrel. But the doctor was kind enough to give me a lift, and I couldn't let her pass without saying goodbye.'

In the silence that followed this statement they all became aware of Mrs Perry's struggle to breathe, and Violet's expression softened as she rounded the bed and took her sister's hand. ‘It's all right, Cora,' she said gruffly. ‘I'll see to all the arrangements and make sure you have a decent send-off. And I'll take Gladys in so she comes to no harm.'

Cora Perry's eyelids fluttered momentarily as if she had heard and understood. Then she stopped struggling and her final breath came with a deep sigh.

As Gideon prayed for her, Mary noticed the sheen of tears in Violet's eyes and knew that despite the gruff and rather hectoring manner, there was a deep regret for the years the sisters had been estranged. Sensing a movement behind her, Mary turned to discover Gladys standing in the doorway, her gaze fixed in puzzlement on her lifeless mother.

Violet must have noticed her too, for she hurried over and eased her out of the room. ‘Mummy's gone to Heaven now, Gladys,' she said not unkindly, ‘and you're coming to live with me. I hope you like cats.'

Gladys's face lit up and she shuffled her feet in delight. ‘I love cats. But I especially love kittens. Do you have any kittens?'

‘I expect we'll have a few before the year is out. Come, Gladys, let me help you get dressed in something warmer and pack a bag. I can come and fetch the rest of your things another time.'

As Violet and Gladys climbed the narrow wooden stairs, Mary caught her father's eye. ‘Will she be all right with Violet?'

Gideon nodded and respectfully drew the sheet over Cora's face. ‘Violet is certainly rather fierce, but I suspect there's a good heart beating under all that tweed and cat hair,' he replied. ‘Gladys will be well cared for.'

They stayed until Gladys's case was packed, and Violet had checked that all the windows and doors were locked and had pocketed the keys, then Gideon drove them to the tiny hamlet of Dane's Cross where Violet lived in a rambling house that stood behind a high hedge. Gladys chattered away for most of the journey and seemed quite happy to follow her aunt up the neat garden path. She turned and waved enthusiastically at them before she was distracted by a cat rubbing against her leg, and Violet closed the front door.

By the time Mary had parked the car in the garage and they'd stripped off their overcoats and outdoor footwear, it was almost seven o'clock. Gideon traipsed upstairs to check on Emmaline, and Mary quickly put the potatoes on to boil while she fried the liver and onions and heated up the last of the soup. Emmaline had eaten most of it, but there was enough for her father.

They ate supper almost in silence and then shared a pot of very weak tea before Gideon declared that he needed to go to bed. Mary kissed his drawn cheek and gave him a hug. ‘Try not to stay up reading for too long, Daddy. You need your rest.'

‘I have a sermon to think about, and a eulogy to plan for Cora's funeral.' He gave her a weary, loving smile and kissed her forehead. ‘Good night, Mary. God bless you, my dear.'

Mary watched from the kitchen doorway as he trudged up the stairs and closed his dressing-room door behind him. He and Emmaline had not shared a bed for many years, mainly because she complained about his having the light on while he read, and Mary knew that, despite his exhaustion, he wouldn't be able to resist reading some Dylan Thomas before he went to sleep. Gideon often used the words of his favourite writer and poet to illustrate his sermons and keep his parishioners enthralled.

Mary took the receiver off the telephone. If there were any other emergencies tonight, it would not be her father who attended them. The house creaked and old pipes rattled as she returned to the kitchen and noticed that it had finally stopped raining. The wind had suddenly dropped too, and there was a frail moon peeking out from the clouds.

She glanced at the clock. There was still just time to get to the station – but did she dare to leave the house? Could she face her father in the morning, knowing how deceitful she'd been? But the thought of Jack waiting on the station platform for the train to take him away was just too much, and she vowed silently that tomorrow she would confess to her parents and endure the awful disappointment in her father's eyes as her just punishment.

Her pulse was racing as she quickly dressed for the outdoors again and checked she had the key to the front door so she could get back in. She went out into the cold, still night, retrieved her bicycle and wheeled it across the side lawn, through the gap in the churchyard wall and along the path through the lychgate.

Having cycled away from the church, she sped along the lane, past the silent, darkened cottages, the old schoolhouse and the line of shops, the brisk night air stinging her eyes and nipping at her face. She pedalled furiously, the feeble beam of her bicycle lamp barely strong enough to show her the way, but soon she'd left Harebridge Green behind her and was zipping along between the high hedgerows of the wider, bending road that led to Hillney.

Eventually she began to make out the silhouettes of the roofs and church towers of Hillney against the horizon, which was now dimly lit by the frail moon. The railway station was at the other end of the market town, and as she passed the Town Hall she noticed with alarm that it was almost half past eight.

Speeding down the hill, she skidded round a sharp corner and almost lost control of the bicycle. With her heart racing, she managed to keep her balance and pedalled even faster as she heard the distinct sound of a steam train chugging along the line. She fairly flew over the humpbacked bridge and swerved into a skidding halt as she reached the stationmaster's little cottage. Careless of the damage it might do to her bicycle, she leapt off and let it fall with a clatter as she ran on to the platform.