A Hopscotch Summer (30 page)

They sat at the edge of the park, with the Jacobean edifice of Aston Hall looming grandly at the top of the slope in front of them. But none of them took much notice of this, or even of the bread and cake, because they were all desperate to hear Cynthia’s story.

‘He seems quite a nice bloke really,’ Cynthia said, her bewilderment still plain in her face. Behind it they could sense a deep excitement which was hard to fathom as yet. ‘I mean, he’s angry all right, but otherwise he seems quite decent. Quite a bit older than her, I’d say. I think he still loves her, in his way . . . He’s still keeping her, despite it all. And Daisy must be fond of him to keep going and seeing him.’

‘Well, what the hell’s she playing at, then?’ Dot erupted, desperate to know the whole picture.

‘You might well ask. It’s a queer story all right.’ Cynthia swallowed her mouthful and, seeing the rapt faces all round her, her face suddenly broke into a delicious grin which made the rest of them smile. They could see she was bursting to tell them what she’d found.

‘Flossie Dawson’s been married to him
for fourteen years
– only his name’s not Dawson – that’s her maiden name. He’s a Welshman; his name’s Dai Owen. He’s a gentle, dithery sort of bloke – wouldn’t say boo to a goose. He works in a bank.’

‘Goodness,’ Dot said. ‘Well, they’re not too poor, then – the house is big enough.’

‘He said he’d inherited it from his mom and dad,’ Cynthia said.

‘Never mind the house – go
on
!’ Dot insisted, impatient as a child.

‘He said Flossie and he got wed just after the war. He’s a good bit older, fifteen years or so. Everything went all right at the start, only they were trying for a babby. Time went by and nothing seemed to be happening and she started to get very down in herself over it. She started blaming him to begin with, but in the end she went to the doctor and they had a look at her up the hospital because they couldn’t seem to find what was wrong. But there’s summat the matter with her – I don’t know what – and she can’t have children . . .’

Em and Molly looked at each other and frowned, not sure of the implications of this.

‘But . . . !’ Dot’s mind was racing round these fragments. ‘What about Daisy? And that means . . . Christ, Cynth – she can’t be expecting your Bob’s babby!’

The girls gasped. ‘She’s a liar and a cheater!’ Em burst out. ‘She’s a wicked, wicked woman!’

‘Daisy’s not theirs,’ Cynthia said. ‘Flossie got in such a state over not being able to have her own that they decided to take in a child from the orphanage, and they got Daisy when she was just about three. When you think of it, she’s nothing like Flossie . . . Any road, that was all right for a bit. She spent a couple of years wrapped up in having Daisy. But then, he said – he seemed quite keen to pour it out to me, surprising really – then Daisy went to school, and that was when things went down the pan even further. Flossie got very funny about men. I s’pose you girls oughtn’t to hear all this, but still – I’ll say it short, like . . .’ Cynthia took a swig of tea from one of the bottles. Giving Dot a meaningful look she went on, ‘She started to wander, if you know what I mean, and she weren’t too fussy either, apparently, even with her being quite respectable. Mr Owen said it was like a kind of drug to her – she had to have men. As if she wanted to cast a spell over them, that was what he said. And of course she’s a looker, got summat about her that hooks them in.’

‘Blimey,’ Dot said. ‘I wonder he stood for it. So he threw her out?’

‘No, not straight away. Course, it upset him terribly, you could see, but he’s a kindly soul. He’s not the ruling with a rod of iron sort, and I don’t think he knew what to do, especially seeing the kind of men she was going for – you know, not her class. He thinks she likes to lord it over them. He turned a blind eye so far as he could and kept hoping she’d just stop it. And he’s ever so fond of Daisy. Flossie didn’t leave home, but she was in and out, playing about . . . He said it would stop for a time and things would go back to normal, but then it would all start off again. He said she was like two people: his loving wife and a prostitute all in one. That was his words. He put it down to her not being able to have a babby of her own, that it had turned her head somehow. Anyway, this went on for some years until about eighteen months ago he’d had enough. Said he couldn’t stand any more. He’d see her all right but she’d got to go. He said he didn’t know where she went first of all, but then of course she came to our neck of the woods.’

‘And started on your husband, the handsome so-and-so.’

Cynthia nodded. Her eyes shone with a mixture of deep hurt and great hope. She looked at Em and Molly, and stroked Em’s head for a second. ‘I’m sorry you had to hear that, girls. But I know you’ve already been forced into seeing what kind of person Mrs Dawson can be.’

Em gave a quick smile, but her eyes remained sad. She still didn’t know what any of this meant. Would it bring Dad home again?

‘You and Bob have always been good together,’ Dot said, laying a hand on her friend’s shoulder for a second. ‘That woman’s cast a spell on
him
. That’s just how it feels. But she’s deceived him every step of the way!’

Cynthia sighed, staring longingly at Dot. ‘Well, I hope so. I just don’t know now whether he can break the spell, even if he finds out the truth, or if it’s too late.’ She looked unbearably sad. ‘Maybe it’s her he really wants now.’

‘What, when she’s lied to him and led him up the garden path with all her carry-on and her tall tales! He’s not going to want to stay with her now, when there’s no babby for her to hold over him!’

Suddenly the strain of it all became too much for Cynthia and she clasped her hands over her face.

‘Oh God, Dot!’ she said, dissolving into tears. ‘I just want my husband back. I just want things to be the way they used to be!’

Dot put her arm round her friend. Em and Molly watched, wide-eyed.

‘Come on, love, it’ll be all right. Let’s just get back. We could wait till tomorrow to go round. It’s all a bit much for you, isn’t it?’

‘No.’ Cynthia wiped her eyes and looked fiercely at Dot. ‘I’ve got to do it, face up to it. I’ve got to know one way or another.’

It was Flossie who opened the door. For a second she looked shocked when she saw who was outside, but covered it up with an insincere smile which glinted with triumph.

‘Oh, I’m surprised to see you,’ she said, looking at Cynthia and pretending to ignore Dot. ‘Was there something you wanted?’

‘We want to come in,’ Dot said brusquely. ‘Is Bob here?’

Flossie affected to look shocked and gave a little laugh. ‘What’s that to you? And why would I want to invite
you
into my house?’

‘Look, bab, just step out of the way before I make yer.’ Dot pushed in past her, with Cynthia following. ‘There’s a few things poor Bob needs to know.’

‘What the hell’s going on?’ Bob said, looking extremely worried when he saw them crowding through into the back room. ‘Cynth, Dot, what’re you doing?’

Dot didn’t waste a second. ‘We’ve come to tell you a few home truths about Mrs Dawson here,’ she said loud and clear. ‘Or rather,
Mrs Owen
.’

There was an immediate shocked intake of breath from Flossie and an ugly blush spread over her face. Her eyes narrowed viciously.

‘What’re you going on about?’ She tried to cover up, giving another little laugh. ‘Bob, I’ve really no idea what they’re talking about! Some spiteful story they’ve cooked up between them, no doubt. Tell them to leave my house, will you, please, dear?’

‘Bob,’ Cynthia went to him urgently, ‘don’t listen to her! She’s not what she seems at all – she’s been lying to you all along. What she said about being a widow, it’s all lies. All this time, she’s still married. Her husband’s in Aston. Dot and I went to see him.’

‘Yes, the poor bugger,’ Dot put in, standing with hands on hips. ‘If ever anyone had a fool made of him it’s Dai Owen.’

‘What are you doing, spreading all these ridiculous lies!’ Flossie cried shrilly. She was panicking and quickly losing control of herself. ‘Bob, make them get out! They’re just vicious gossip-mongers. They’re lying to you. You know your wife’s not right in the head. Get out, the pair of you!’

So saying, she grabbed Cynthia’s arm and tried to drag her away.

‘Get your filthy, deceiving hands off me!’ Cynthia cried as Dot, by far the strongest of the three women, intervened, seizing Flossie round the waist and dragging her away from Cynthia.

‘You come over ’ere and shut yer cake’ole for a minute – we’ve heard enough from you to last a lifetime. Go on, Cynth, tell him!’

Bob looked utterly bewildered, not knowing who to believe about anything.

‘Bob, listen, for God’s sake,’ Cynthia gabbled, grasping Bob’s arm in her urgency. ‘Daisy’s not her real daughter. She’s married but she can’t have children, so she’s not expecting your babby now. She’s not capable of it!’

‘No-o-o!’ A terrible, shrill wail poured out of Flossie. ‘Don’t say that! It’s not true. It’s all lies. She’s just trying to come between us, Bob.’

‘You know it’s true,’ Dot said, still holding onto her tightly. ‘You know damn well you’re not expecting his child and you’ve wheedled your way into this family and bloody nearly wrecked everything, you scheming little bitch. Go on, tell him the truth for once. You’re not having a babby, are you? Because you’re barren, and you’re not a widow. In fact you’re not anything you seem to be. Everything about you is a bloody sham!’

Bob looked stunned but they could see he was starting to believe them.

‘It’s not true!’ Flossie crumpled, starting to shake and sob. ‘I can have a baby with you, Bob, I know I can,’ she pleaded. ‘If we keep trying I know it’ll happen. It’s different with you. It was Dai who couldn’t have children. I should never have married him.’

‘Oh yes, and what about all the other men you’ve been with?’ Dot flung back at her. ‘I suppose it was all their fault as well?’

‘Is it true?’ Bob said quietly. ‘Floss – tell me the truth. Have you been lying to me, all this time, about everything?’

‘Yes, she flaming well has!’ Dot said, her impatience getting the better of her. ‘And you swallowed every word of it, you bleeding idiot.’

‘Floss?’ He spoke quietly.

Flossie didn’t say anything, not then. She couldn’t even look at him. It was obvious from the state of her, the way she crumpled within Dot’s grasp, that they had exposed all her strange pretence, and she seemed to have no fight left in her. Dot propelled her to a chair where she bent over, sobbing hysterically.

‘You can’t do this to me! Don’t leave me, Bob. We’ll be happy together, we will have a child, we
will
!’

Cynthia’s emotion welled up in tears. ‘Bob, you’re my husband and I want you home – we all do. It’s not all your fault. I wasn’t myself and I frightened you away. But come home now, come and be with your family, please!’

Bob looked in anguish from one weeping woman to another, seemingly unable to think what to do. After a moment he broke away from Cynthia.

‘Christ, I can’t stand this. I’ve got to get out – just let me out . . .’

He rushed from the house and they heard the front door slam behind him.

Cynthia and Dot returned to eighteen Kenilworth Street, leaving a sobbing Flossie Dawson. Em, Sid and Joyce’s faces were all anxiously at the window. Molly was waiting with them.

‘Where’s our dad?’ Sid burst out as they came in. Em had told them she thought he’d be coming home with them.

‘I don’t know,’ Cynthia said wearily. Violet was crying and she went to her and picked her up. ‘He just went off.’ She hadn’t the strength to think up any other excuse that would soften the blow.

‘Your dad just wanted to think things out a bit,’ Dot told them, hardly able to look at the children’s faces, especially Em’s, so deep was their disappointment. She knew Em felt everything so keenly, was so desperate for her family to be together the way they used to be.

‘He’s got to come back,’ Em said, backing towards the door.

‘I expect he will,’ Dot was saying, but Em was already on her way out of the house.

‘He’s
got
to!’ she cried, gone before anyone could stop her.

Em tore along the street, dodging the flying skipping ropes, with groups twirling and chanting rhymes.

Someone called to her, but she took no notice. She could only think of one thing and it felt like the most urgent and important thing in the world. She had to find her dad,
had
to, her thumping heart told her over and over again as she dashed past the Prices’ shop and the timber yard and on and on along the neighbouring streets.

The rubber soles of her shoes slapped on the pavement and her long cotton skirt with the blue and white checks swished round her skinny legs . . .
Dad, my dad
. . . She ran so hard it felt as if her lungs would burst.

‘Steady on!’ With the bright sun in her eyes she almost collided with a man turning the corner but she ignored him, barely aware of anyone else, so intent was she on her mission.

Almost certainly she knew where he would be. She ran on along the side of the power station, its cooling towers smudging the spring sky with its manufactured weather. She had to stop for a moment to catch her breath, hearing the chuff-chuff of a train shunting in the goods yard on the other side of the road. Grit blew into her eyes and she blinked hard, then she ran on, limping now as her too-small left shoe was chafing her little toe.

Soon she saw him, where she’d hoped he would be when he needed to try to think straight: on the little bridge close to the tube works where you could look over the cut. He was a dark, hunched figure in the sunlight, his head bent, eyes fixed on the water, so lost in thought that he didn’t notice her coming.

Her heart thudding, she went up to him and touched his arm.

‘Dad?’

Bob jumped, startled. His expression was very grim, but softened a fraction on seeing her.

‘Oh, Em – it’s you.’ He seemed dazed and suddenly she was tongue-tied as well. They stood staring at one another. Then he looked down again into the murky water. ‘I’ve made a right ruddy mess, haven’t I?’

Em examined his profile. He looked worn, and older. Although he was still her good-looking king of a father, there was a sad droop to his cheeks. ‘Come home, Dad,’ she said at last.

Bob’s blue, watery eyes rested on her face in a troubled way, and for a moment he couldn’t seem to speak.

‘I don’t know if I can,’ he said at last. ‘I—’ He drew his head back, looking over towards the power-station chimney with its flag of smoke. ‘I don’t know if . . . if yer mother’s all right, if I can do it. I don’t know how I could’ve been such a fool. Flossie lied to me – lied to me so bad. I don’t even know what’s right any more . . . I don’t know nothing . . .’

‘Dad,
please
. . .’

Hearing the tears in Em’s voice he turned to her properly again.

‘Just come home, that’s all. We all want you home. Can’t we just be together again like before?’

He looked down, ashamed, shaking his head. ‘I’m sorry, Em. I was frightened of your mother – of the way she was. I was weak . . . You were right, I
was
stupid. I don’t even know what I was doing.’ He shrugged. ‘Not much of a father to yer, am I?’

Crying now, tears that never seemed to stop, Em went to him and tugged at his coat. She turned her wet face up pleadingly to him. ‘Come on, Dad.’

After a moment, he reached down and took her hand.

‘Is everyone home?’ he asked, as they walked along, and she told him they were. They didn’t say anything else.

She felt proud, walking back along Kenilworth Street, holding her father’s hand. When they reached the house, he said, ‘Here goes,’ and she could hear from his breathing that he was scared stiff.

Cynthia was in the scullery, but she heard them and came through.

‘Em?’ she said, with worried eyes.

‘Dad’s here,’ Em said.

She saw her mother take in the sight of him, standing humbly just inside the door, his hat between his hands. There was silence for a few seconds. Bob cleared his throat.

‘I’ve come back home,’ he said. ‘If you’ll have me.’

Em saw in her mother’s face the depth of her relief. Quietly, calmly, Cynthia said, ‘Yes, Bob, I’ll have you. Course I will.’

Only after the children were asleep were the two of them able to be alone. They had all sat round the table together for tea as a family, and the children were all happy and excited that both their mom and dad were home together and things looked hopeful. Cynthia sat there, with Violet in her arms, gazing round at her family, hardly able to believe it. It was all so fragile, but it was right – at last.

‘You won’t go away again, Dad, will yer?’ Joycie said before she went sleepily up to bed.

‘No, bab. Now come ’ere and give us a kiss.’

Cynthia watched Bob say goodnight to each of them in turn, holding them as if they were the most precious things ever. Then he got up. ‘I’ll come and tuck you in. Let yer mother have a rest.’

‘I ain’t half missed them,’ he said sheepishly, when he came down.

It was on the tip of Cynthia’s tongue to say something nasty about how he’d gone off to replace their children with Daisy Dawson, but she bit the words back. They hadn’t had a chance to talk yet – it was no good spoiling a new start with angry accusations.

Getting ready for bed in their candlelit room, it was with the sudden shyness of newly-weds. Cynthia turned away from him to unfasten her blouse, almost as if Bob was a stranger to her.

‘Cynth . . .’ He spoke softly, coming round the big wooden bed to her.

She turned, her breasts half exposed, pulling the sides of her shirt together again.

‘No, don’t,’ he said. ‘Let me see yer.’

He spoke so sweetly that even after all her pain and anguish she felt very tender towards him. He was nothing but a boy in some ways, a frightened, hurt boy who needed her, deep down, far more than he knew.

‘I’m all skinny now,’ she said apologetically. ‘Not much there.’

Taking his hand she pulled him to her and sat down on the edge of the bed. He gave a sob, ‘No – Christ – you’re so beautiful, Cynth.’ For a second he gazed at her, as if about to kiss or caress her breasts, but then he knelt beside her, burying his head in her lap, and broke down in tears.

‘I’m sorry.’ The words choked out brokenly. ‘I’ve been such a fool . . . I don’t know how I can’ve done what I did. That woman, she bewitched me. I couldn’t seem to think straight.’

Cynthia sat, bare-breasted, the warmth of his head in her lap, stroking his dark hair, the curling bits at his neckline, gently trying to reassure him. She felt overwhelmed with tenderness.

‘I’ve been no good to yer,’ he went on. ‘I know I should’ve been better – but when you were bad you were like someone else. I couldn’t seem to think what to do. It felt as if I’d lost you! I couldn’t stand it, Cynth. It was like being in the Boys’ Home all over again, with no one to care about yer. You were my wife, but you’re like a mom to me an’ all, I know that now. And when you were poorly it was as if you’d died like she did . . .’

He raised his head, seeming bemused by what he had just said.

‘I didn’t mean to leave you,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what happened to me. What with the babby, then our Joycie going missing, everything got on top of me. It was like the floor opening and there being nothing underneath to catch you. D’you get me?’

He stared ahead, then nodded. ‘I think I do. A bit, anyhow.’

Her eyes were frightened. ‘I feel different. As if I’ll never be who I was before, not ever completely.’

‘But you’re better?’

‘Better than I was, yes.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘You won’t go back to her, will you – that woman?’

Bob grasped her hand. ‘Course not. Here’s where I belong. It’s like I went blind for a bit and couldn’t see. She’s a scheming bitch, I can see that now an’ all, but God knows, she had me taken in. There’s summat not right with her.’ He got to his feet, taking her hand. ‘You’re my wife, and by God I need yer, Cynth. I want to hold yer close and stay here – in our house where we belong.’

Gently, he pulled her to him and she felt his warm, strong chest against her bare breasts, and his heartbeat and the hard strength of him, and she longed to take him to her and love him and begin to make everything right.