Monday Girl (40 page)

‘Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?’

‘I’d to bear with him and work things out for myself, it was all my fault. He was eaten up with jealousy because I’d let Fergus use me over and over again, even after I’d seen him making love to another girl, and knew he was a rotter. That was really what he found so difficult to understand.’ Anne rose and went over to sit on the pouffe beside the girl’s chair. ‘I’m not surprised he didn’t understand that, and I didn’t realise exactly what Fergus had done to you. I knew you couldn’t see past him, but I didn’t know how much he was to blame for everything. He always swore it was you that wouldn’t let him alone, and pestered him until he had sex with you. I’m sorry for believing him, Renee, and doubly sorry for the part I played in your misery for a while.’ Her daughter regarded her sadly. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Fergus could make any woman believe whatever he liked to tell her. I found that out myself, later . . . Mum, I went to meet him the night before he went away the last time.’

‘I know.’

‘That’s when it all blew up. I wanted to let him know how I felt and I’d a blazing row with him. I wouldn’t have had anything more to do with him, even if he hadn’t gone away.’

‘He told me he finished with you.’ Anne’s eyes were apologetic for her credulity. ‘But by that time, I didn’t trust him as far as I could see him, and I’d already told him never to come back to this house.’

‘He told me that, trying to make me feel sorry for him.’ The girl’s voice was low. ‘I said I was glad.’

Anne sat up straighter on the low seat. ‘But Glynn’s a different matter. I thought there was something wrong between you, then you’d seem happy again for a while and I couldn’t make it out.’

Renee explained then about Glynn switching from Mondays only, to any night except Mondays. ‘I was perfectly content all the rest of the week, you see, and I really did – do – love him.’

‘Was that twisted behaviour still going on when he was posted?’

‘No. He came home one Monday night – the night Jack Thomson was here, remember? – and he took it into his head that Jack was in love with me, and he was so jealous that I think he forgot it was a Monday and made love to me. There was no difficulty the rest of the week, either, and the next Monday was his last night here, and we made love that night, too. I was really happy that he’d got Mondays out of his system.’

Anne looked right into her daughter’s eyes. ‘He’s never been home since then, of course, so you won’t really know if he did get over it, or if it was the circumstances on that two Mondays that made him . . .’

‘I don’t know, Mum, but I’ve got to keep believing he’d got over it, the same as I’ve got to keep believing he’ll come back.’

‘He will come back, I’m sure of it.’

‘Have you been shocked at what I’ve told you, Mum?’ Anne lifted her shoulders. ‘I suppose I have, I can’t deny it. Not all of it came as a surprise, of course, but the rest was a bit of a shock. I’m glad you told me, though.’

Renee waited a moment before she said, firmly, ‘I’ve more to tell you, I’m afraid. I have to get everything out now I’ve started, and this’ll probably shock you just as much.’

‘I doubt if anything else is going to shock me today.’ Anne let out a short, bitter laugh. ‘Go ahead.’

‘Remember the last time Jack was here? Just before the invasion? And you told me to walk with him to the bus stop?’

Her mother’s expression changed from curiosity to grim apprehension. ‘You were away for nearly an hour and a half, and you told me you’d seen him on to the country bus?’

‘That wasn’t true. We spent the whole time in that little lane round the corner.’

‘I thought you couldn’t have taken an hour and a half to go into town and back. My God, Renee! You didn’t . . . ?’

‘No, we didn’t, but it was Jack that said no. I would have, in a flash, if he’d wanted me to.’

‘Renee Gordon! No, it’s Williams now. Did you forget that?’ Anne looked more shocked by this last confession than by anything which had gone before.

‘Only for a few minutes, but Jack didn’t. That’s why he wouldn’t carry on. It only started with him giving me a goodbye kiss, and it sort of got out of hand after that, until Jack called a halt.’ The girl hesitated, then made up her mind that she may as well confess everything. ‘I love Jack, too.’

Pursing her lips, Anne gave a low whistle. ‘You’ve really got your life in a muddle, haven’t you? I used to wish, years ago, that you’d fall in love with Jack, but . . .’

Renee sighed. ‘I
was
in love with Jack years ago, but he wouldn’t admit that he loved me. I guessed he did, from little things he said, but he never came right out with it. He told me, that night in the lane, that he always believed I’d never get over Fergus.’

‘He knew about you and Fergus, did he?’ Anne seemed surprised.

‘He knew all along, ever since it started, really, and Fergus had boasted to him about . . . me, and told him to keep off. Anyway, I told him I’d have married him if he’d asked me before he was called up.’

‘Your love life’s been one long mix-up, then?’ Anne’s smile was a little crooked.

‘I suppose it has. I thought Jack didn’t love me, and I went mad amongst the boys for a while.’

‘I remember,’ Anne said, dryly.

‘And then Fred Schaper brought Glynn here and I fell in love with him.’ Renee’s face suddenly crumpled. ‘Now Glynn’s missing, Fred’s been killed, and I don’t know what’s happened to Jack.’ She sobbed loudly, and her mother let her weep. It was the best antidote for the shock she’d just received, and for all the worry she had gone through previously. When she calmed down, Renee said, quietly, ‘You must despise me for all the awful things I’ve done.’

Anne shook her head. ‘I pity you. You made your own life a misery for most of the time.’

‘I know. I’ve been very stupid, haven’t I?’

‘You should have told me about the trouble you and Glynn were having. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything, but you’d have felt better, not bottling it all up. I’m glad everything’s out in the open now . . . I suppose it is all out?’

‘Oh, yes.’ The girl summoned up a watery smile. ‘There’s no more skeletons in the cupboard.’

‘Thank goodness for that . . . Could you eat something now, do you think, seeing you’ve got everything off your chest?’

‘You know, I believe I could.’

Anne insisted on sleeping with her daughter that night.

‘Just so I’ll know you’re all right,’ she explained.

Renee’s emotions had been ripped apart since she had read the fateful letter, and when she became tearful her mother tried to comfort her as best she could.

‘You’ve come through quite a lot in your life, you’ll come through this, too. Once Glynn comes back, you’ll be able to laugh at yourself for worrying so much.’

‘If he comes back,’ Renee whispered.

‘Yes, he’ll come back. He’s all right, I tell you. Now, go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.’

Anne slipped out of bed quietly next day, to let Renee sleep on. They would understand in the office if she didn’t go in today. It was ten past twelve before the girl made her appearance downstairs.

‘Why didn’t you waken me, Mum?’

‘You needed the rest. I was going to shout to you when the dinner was ready. It’ll be about half an hour yet. Would you like a cup of tea while we’re waiting?’

‘Yes, please. My mouth feels like it’s got half Aberdeen Beach in it.’ Anne laughed, pleased that Renee could joke a little. She was definitely going to see it through.

As year-long week succeeded year-long week, with no word about either Glynn or Jack, Renee tried to appear cheerful, although all hope was fading fast within her. At last, almost three months after Glynn had been reported missing, she received notification that he had been seriously wounded, and was now in a hospital in England.

‘Thank God!’ she murmured, through dry lips. ‘At least he’s alive.’

‘I told you.’ Anne was smiling as they turned and hugged each other.

‘He must be very bad, though, or else he’d have written to me himself,’ Renee said anxiously, after a few minutes.

‘He’ll write as soon as he can,’ her mother comforted her. The Allies were now forging ahead in Europe, and the wireless and newspaper reports gave some hope that the war would soon be at an end, and the two women, like millions of others, were happier than they had been for some time.

They were very pleased when Tim Donaldson called one evening, with Moira, to let them know that he was home. His hands were still bandaged, but the doctors were apparently satisfied with the way they were healing.

‘He nearly lost his right hand, you know.’ Moira could talk about it calmly, now that it was clear that such a calamity would never occur.

‘The operations and grafts were all successful,’ Tim told them, ‘but I’ve to attend Outpatients here once a week for a while.’

‘That’s good news.’ Anne beamed at them. ‘I’m very happy for you both.’

‘Me, too,’ added Renee. ‘And I hope it’s not long till Glynn can write and tell me how he’s doing.’

‘Oh, you’ve heard from him?’ Moira had been afraid to ask.

‘No, he hasn’t been able to write himself yet, but I had notification that he was wounded, that’s all I know.’

‘But you know he’s not missing any longer. That’s good.’ Moira laid her hand on Renee’s.

‘Is there any word of a house for you two yet?’

‘Oh, yes, I nearly forgot to tell you.’ Moira giggled. ‘I found a small flat to let in Chapel Street, just two rooms, with the lavatory on the stairs, but it’s very nice. We’re starting to buy furniture and things, and I suppose it’ll take a while before we get everything as we want it.’

‘I should be able to help with the decorating once they give me the all-clear at the hospital,’ Tim said.

Anne laughed. ‘You don’t know what you’re taking on. We painted and stippled the two bedrooms a few weeks back, and it was some job, wasn’t it, Renee?’

‘You can say that again.’ The girl had actually been very glad of the task to help take her mind off her worries.

‘How’s Mike? Has Babs heard from him lately?’

Tim nodded. ‘She gets letters occasionally, not much in them, of course, but at least he’s still writing. She worries about him a lot.’

‘I know what it’s like,’ Renee said with feeling.

As they were leaving, Tim said, ‘Is there any word of Jack Thomson yet? Moira said you hadn’t heard from him for a long time.’

Anne glanced at her daughter, then answered for her.

‘No, there’s nothing yet.’

Tim looked thoughtful. ‘I’d have thought his mother would have let you know if anything had happened to him. After all, he lodged here for years.’

‘That did cross my mind,’ Anne said slowly. ‘But it’s nearly four years since he was called up, and she maybe thinks we’re not interested now.’

‘He came to see you when he was on leave, so she must know you’d want to hear about him. Well, we’ll have to be off. You’ll let us know when you hear from Glynn, Renee? And from Jack?’

When Anne came back from seeing them out, she said,

‘Tim’s looking quite well, considering. Moira’ll just have to feed him up.’

‘He made me think, though.’ Renee took the writing pad from the top drawer of the sideboard. ‘I’m going to write to Jack’s mother, to see if she knows anything about him.’

‘I’d better do it.’ Anne grabbed the pad and sat down at the card table. ‘It wouldn’t look right if you did it, being a married woman. Have you your fountain-pen handy?’

Renee rummaged in her handbag to find it, and they composed the letter together – a short note, couched in gentle terms, not to cause Mrs Thomson needless worry or grief.

‘I’m not too sure about this,’ Anne observed, after she licked the flap of the envelope. ‘I wondered about doing it before, but I thought I’d better not. Jack’s maybe trying to be honourable by not writing to another man’s wife, especially after he’s told her he loves her.’

‘He wouldn’t stop writing because of that.’ Renee’s mouth set in a thin, obstinate line.

‘He knew how you felt about him, but he knows you still love Glynn, so he could have thought he was betraying Glynn if he kept on writing to you, reminding you.’

‘I suppose that’s the decent kind of thing Jack would think,’ Renee admitted. ‘But I still want to know about him.’

Mrs Thomson replied by return post. She’d heard from Jack up until about six weeks ago, telling her that he was quite well and not to worry.

Her letter went on:

Thank you for your concern for my son, because I am worrying about him now, it’s been so long since I heard. I’ll let you know as soon as I get a letter, to set your mind at rest. Jack was very happy when he lodged with you, he was always speaking about you and your daughter. I hope her husband recovers quickly from his wounds. Thank you for looking after Jack so well when he was working in Aberdeen, and God grant he comes home safely.

Yours in friendship,

Wilma Thomson.

Renee’s hopes had plummetted to rock bottom by the time she reached the end. ‘That’s it, then. His mother was hearing from him, so he must have just stopped writing to me. He must have wanted me to believe he’d been killed.’ Anne chose her next words carefully. ‘It might be best for you and Glynn if Jack didn’t come back.’

Renee gasped with horror. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say! How could you, Mum? I thought you liked him.’

‘I do like him. I love him like a son, but . . . life’s not going to be easy for him, or for you, if he comes back to Aberdeen after the war. You’d have to make a complete break with him, otherwise it wouldn’t be fair to Glynn.’

‘I realise that.’ Renee spoke slowly. ‘It’s something that’s been torturing me for quite a while. I worry about it, but I wouldn’t wish him dead.’

‘I wasn’t wishing him dead,’ Anne snapped. ‘That’s not what I meant at all.’

‘It sounded like it to me,’ the girl said, pettishly.

‘Listen, Renee. His own mother hasn’t heard from him for weeks now, and it’s a possibility you’ll have to face. You know, you weren’t being fair to Jack that night. He’d already accepted that you were married to somebody else, and that he’d lost you, but you gave him new, false hope.’