Alley Urchin (30 page)

‘You two bugger off from under me feet,’ instructed the incorrigible Nelly, ‘course I’ll be all right!’

Rita Hughes and Emma looked at each other with amusement, but they were not surprised by Nelly’s familiar light-hearted abuse. They had grown used to it, and saw no offence in her attitude, for there was none intended.

‘I gave up on her years ago!’ laughed Emma, shaking her head.

‘She’s a good worker and harmless enough,’ rejoined Rita Hughes, as she followed Emma to the back office, ‘though I do have to keep my eye on her with the likes of Marjorie Hunter and her snooty cronies. Given the opportunity, they would report Nelly to the authorities and have her reassigned to cleaning out the prison pigsties.’

Emma knew this Marjorie Hunter well. She was a social climber who had nosed her way on to every committee that was formed, and Emma made a mental note to have a word with Nelly before she left. That woman, and others like her, could prove to be Nelly’s downfall if she weren’t very careful, and it would be tragic if that were to happen, because lately Nelly had made every effort to mend her ways. In fact, Nelly had earned her ticket-of-leave, gone out of her way to appear more disciplined and it had been
months
since she’d been in any kind of trouble. Emma was full of praise for her friend, but there was something which bothered her. This was Nelly’s unusually quiet manner on the occasions when Emma began talking of her future, and of how one day she would take Nelly home to England and ‘find you a handsome husband there’. At one time, Nelly’s jubilant reaction would have been to prance about her little room, with a mischievous look about her, and the comment, ‘What ’andsome feller could resist a little beauty like meself, eh? Oh . . . I’ll show the bugger a thing or two and no mistake!’ Lately however, Nelly seemed to have other things on her mind, so that when Emma talked of England and their future, Nelly’s quiet indifference was both astonishing and disturbing to Emma.

The reason for Nelly’s curious behaviour was made painfully evident to Emma, when both she and Rita Hughes emerged from the office in less time than Emma had anticipated, having concluded the business discussions with satisfaction and efficiency. It was Emma who saw them first, and she couldn’t believe her eyes! The store entrance was closed up and the shutter pulled down. There, with her back against the door was Nelly, her arms stretched round the bent form of a man, and the two of them locked in a kiss which was so obviously passionate that Emma felt her own cheeks flaming.

Rita Hughes had been walking alongside Emma, paying careful attention to Emma’s suggestions for display, her own eyes looking downwards to a sketch in her hands which Emma had made to emphasise her point. When, of a sudden, Emma came to a halt, Rita Hughes looked up at her briefly, before following Emma’s startled gaze to where the two figures were so rapt in their enjoyment of each other that neither had heard the two women approach.

‘Nelly! What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?’ Emma demanded, lifting the cumbersome folds of her skirt with both hands as she swept forward in anger. As she did so, the man, whose back had been to her, now swung round and Emma was so shocked to see who it was that she came to an abrupt halt, exclaiming in a voice that was filled with horror. ‘You! . . . Foster Thomas!’ At that point, Rita Hughes made a loud gasp, afterwards coming forward on hesitant steps to face him. ‘No! . . . I won’t believe it. You and . . .’ Here she inclined her head towards Nelly, who had stepped up to half-hide herself beside Foster Thomas. ‘. . . and
Nelly
!
’
So terrible was her voice that Emma quickly glanced at her. She was riveted by the awful look on Rita Hughes’s face, which was drained white, her odd-coloured eyes stark with panic. Emma knew then, without any doubt, that Rita Hughes adored this man, this fiend who had it in him to force himself on a woman who was ill and helpless, and who was as low as any man could get.

‘Look here, girlie,’ Foster Thomas appeared unperturbed by the intrusion as he half-turned his murky blue eyes to Nelly, with a sly smile moving over his lean handsome face, which was marred only by the thin low scar made by the lick of his father’s whip, ‘I reckon we’ve been caught in the act.’ He laughed, a quiet sinister sound which chilled Emma’s heart. She had not forgotten how Roland had disowned this man, and how it was common knowledge that he sought to avenge himself on Emma who had been made full heir to all that was ‘Thomas Trading’.

‘Get out!’ she told him now, going in a rage towards the door and flinging it open. ‘Get out . . . and
stay
out!’ she told him, her grey eyes ablaze.

‘It ain’t all his fault, Emma!’ Nelly protested, running forward in his defence and touching Emma on the arm. She was amazed when Emma shrugged her off, never once taking her stony glare from the man she had every reason to loathe. ‘I’ll only tell you
once
!’ she warned him in a dangerously quiet voice.

‘All right, Emma my beauty. There’s no reason for me to stay now, is there?’ He smiled down on her, his blue eyes boring into her face, ‘Not when you’ve spoiled my fun.’ He turned to look at Rita Hughes, who was softly crying and for whom he had always felt a certain repugnance. ‘Sorry, girlie,’ he said without feeling, ‘but y’see . . . Nelly’s a better bet.’ He now glanced at Nelly who was beside him. ‘Ain’t that right? Through you . . . I’ll definitely achieve so much more.’ Nelly giggled foolishly, taking his words to mean that he loved her as she loved him, heart and soul.

But Emma was under no such illusion. She recognised his words for what they really were, a threat against herself and against his father, her husband. She knew in her heart that he would stop at nothing to get to her in any way he possibly could. Nelly was such a way, a poor gullible creature with a heart of gold, and it was filled with love for him. He knew well enough that Emma adored her friend Nelly. That she had watched out for her all these years, and that it would bring her the greatest joy to see Nelly free and settled with a good man who could give her the love and care she so much deserved. To see her entangled with a monster like Foster Thomas was devastating. He was cruel to the point of being sadistic, and Emma knew that he would use Nelly, break her spirit in the process, then fling her aside as though she were nothing.

Emma was tempted to accuse him loudly of these things in front of Nelly, to show him up for what he was and to goad him into revealing his real character. But she gritted her teeth and said nothing, because she suspected that to belittle him in front of Nelly would only fire that foolish young woman to leap to his defence. Instead, she opened the door wider and stepped back for him to pass. As he did so, he leaned down to murmur in her ear, ‘It’s too late, Emma.
I have her!
I’d rather have you . . . but one thing’s for sure, I’ll make you suffer. All of you!’ Then, as he blatantly bent to kiss Nelly full on the mouth and she, with adoring eyes, followed his long lean figure as it went down the steps, Emma was frantic. When he turned round to tell Nelly with an intimate wink, ‘I’ll be back for you, girlie,’ Emma’s worst fears were realised.

‘I won’t listen to you!’ Nelly pressed her hands over her ears, before running to the far end of the room to which Emma had brought her. Emma deplored the havoc Foster Thomas had already wreaked here: Nelly growing more agitated by the minute, and Rita Hughes quietly serving the customers, with a look of abject sorrow on her face, the light gone from her eyes. Foster Thomas had a great deal to answer for, and if Emma had her way, both these foolish women would see him for what he was. Yet Nelly was besotted beyond the point of reason, and Rita Hughes would not even discuss the matter. Whatever Rita’s thoughts, she obviously intended to keep them to herself.

‘The man’s no good for you, Nelly!’ Emma argued now. ‘Can’t you see that he’s
using
you? Using you to hurt me. Oh, Nelly . . . be sensible. He’ll only break your heart.’

‘He
won’t!’
yelled Nelly, taking her hands down and flinging herself into the cane chair. ‘Foster Thomas loves me. And I love him!’ Then, in her anger, she said something that cut Emma’s heart to the quick. ‘You’re jealous, that’s all! Don’t think
you’re
the only one who can have a husband, Miss High and Mighty . . . with your fancy house and all your money!’ At once, a look of horror spread over her face, and when she saw how deeply wounded Emma had been by her cruel words, it seemed for a moment as though she might go to her and make amends. But when Emma murmured in a tearful voice, ‘Oh, Nelly . . . Nelly,’ her back stiffened, and the resolve returned to her face. ‘You’ve got it all, Emma Thomas,’ she said in accusing voice, ‘and you’re carrying your lover’s child to prove it!’ She turned her eyes from Emma’s face because she could not bear to see the pain she had caused. Yet Nelly was convinced that Foster Thomas
did
love her. She was certain also that Emma would stop her from seeing him if she could. Well! In these past months she had earned her ticket-of-leave, and she had the right to choose her own employer. For the first time in her life, Nelly was head over heels in love, and being convinced that her man truly returned her love, she was adamant that
nothing
would come between them, not Emma, not anybody. Oh, she loved Emma like she was her own sister, but what she felt for Foster Thomas had seeped into her every nerve-ending, every bone of her body, and it had given her life new meaning, and a fresh purpose. How could she let it be spoiled? Emma hated him, she knew. And, truth be told, there was every reason, for wasn’t she herself a witness to how he had taken Emma when she was desperately ill and lying unconscious? But he was drunk at the time! She had questioned him on this very issue, and he had told her how he was filled with remorse that he should have done such a dreadful thing. Oh, he was no angel, Nelly knew that. But then, neither was
she.

‘I’m leaving. I’ll report to the authorities and find new work in Fremantle.’ Nelly’s voice was cold and unfriendly, but still she could not lift her eyes to Emma. ‘I’d be obliged if you’d piss off . . . go on! Leave me be, and let me live me own bloody life!’

Emma stared down at Nelly’s familiar brown unruly hair, and she could hardly see for the tears which swam in her sorry eyes. In a moment, she had taken a step forward, her hand outstretched as though she might stroke Nelly’s bent head. When Nelly sensed Emma’s intention, she looked up to meet Emma’s unhappy gaze. For a while, she said nothing, a great and terrible struggle going on inside her. Then, when Emma asked, ‘You don’t mean that, do you, Nelly?’ she got to her feet, quickly rummaged about in the room to collect a few belongings, then brushed past Emma, turning at the door to tell her in an angry voice, ‘You ain’t gonna piss off . . . so
I
will. Don’t come after me, and don’t contact me . . . ’cause I’ve washed me hands of yer. Yer turned yer back on my feller . . . so, you’ve turned yer back on what I want most in life. That tells me that yer ain’t the friend I took yer for. Don’t you ever interfere in my life again!’ She flounced out of the room, and slammed the door, leaving the only person in the world who genuinely loved her totally devastated by her parting words, ‘Don’t contact me and, don’t ever interfere in my life again.’

That night, when Emma lay in her bed looking back on that most dreadful scene, she felt a deluge of sorrow within her that she had not experienced in a long, long time. She knew that she had no right to go against Nelly’s furious insistence that Emma should not contact her, and if truth be told, Emma was convinced that she could never change Nelly’s obsessive love for Foster Thomas . . . in the same way that Nelly would not change Emma’s own loathing for him. She had hurt Nelly badly, she had threatened what her friend saw as her only chance of happiness, and Emma wished that it could have been different. She feared for Nelly. But there was nothing to be done, except to pray that no real harm would come to her, before the truth of Foster Thomas’s character was revealed. Love was a cruel master. Who should know that better than Emma herself!

Even while Emma cried herself to sleep, Nelly was settling down in the attic of a nearby inn where she had found work. She too was desperately unhappy because of the terrible things she had said to Emma. Yet she would stand by her decision now. She wouldn’t contact Emma and she wouldn’t retract any of those things which had been said, because she loved Foster Thomas too much to risk losing him. In fact, when she had found him to tell him how she had been so cruel in saying those things to Emma, he had been quick to defend her and to reassure her of his love. What was more, Emma had been wrong in saying that he was only ‘using’ her. Because this very day, he had asked her to marry him! The authorities were duly informed and soon Nelly would be Mrs Foster Thomas . . . a
free
woman. So much for Emma’s warning, she thought bitterly.

Nelly was convinced that she would never come to regret the path she had chosen. But if it had been within her power to see where that path might lead, she would never even have taken the first step!

Chapter Ten

‘It’s no use you keep worrying over Nelly . . . you’re only making yourself ill!’ Roland Thomas reached his arms up to the wooden bar which Emma had arranged to be fitted to his bedhead, and with a determined effort he pulled himself up to a more comfortable sitting position. ‘She’s married . . . made her own choice, and I reckon she’ll have to live with it.’ He pursed his lips as he looked from Emma to gaze thoughtfully at the chequered eiderdown, and all the while he was cursing whatever ill-fortune it was that had brought him a son like Foster Thomas.

‘If only she would answer my notes, Mr Thomas . . . if only she would show willing to make amends between us, that’s all I ask.’ Emma was standing by the window, looking out on to the verandah and occasionally lifting her eyes to scour the distance beyond the road which led down to the sea. Always, when she let her thoughts wander over the horizon, the image of Marlow would flood her heart and, like now, she turned away. It was no use craving for what could never be. She had come to realise that much, and to be thankful for whatever blessings the Lord saw fit to bring her.