The Great Betrayal (25 page)

Dolly thought it might be useful for when her child arrived, but then realized that she didn’t have a spare shilling so looked further.

‘Haven’t got any windows!’ she muttered.

Frustrated, Dolly shook her head. She had decided to become a companion to a rich old lady, with accommodation for her and the child as part of the deal. She imagined herself on the way to the park, pushing the old soul in a bath chair with the child cheerfully trotting alongside. It might be a boy wearing a sailor suit. A girl would be dressed in frills with a lacy bonnet. The old lady would be a spinster with rheumatics but very sweet tempered with no family of her own and would take a shine to Dolly and the child and would die and leave them everything in her will. Inspired by this rosy picture, she pressed on with her search.

Another card, with fading ink and curling corners, offered mongrel puppies for sale. Next to that, heavily pencilled, was a comparatively new card dated a week earlier:

‘Same day? But suppose it rains?’

Slowly losing hope, Dolly read on. There was a second-hand perambulator on offer, cast-off clothing to fit a five- to six-year-old boy, a singing canary in a wicker cage, and a pair of blue blankets, slightly faded. Fascinating, she thought, but hardly helpful. Discouraged, Dolly sighed. None of these advertisements sounded as though they were written by rich old ladies, but maybe they advertised some other way.

George interrupted her investigation. ‘We’re on our way back, Dolly. Are you coming?’

Adam waved a raspberry lollipop to show her what he had spent his money on, and Dolly hesitated. Dare she let them out of her sight while she read the rest of the advertisements? Probably not, she decided and gave in gracefully.

‘I’ve seen enough for today,’ she told him, and the three of them set off towards home.

They were halfway there when it occurred to her that a rich but elderly and lonely old man would be almost as good as the sweet-tempered old woman.

Lydia had spent a sleepless night, dozing fitfully between long hours of worry about the future. At first the problems had appeared insurmountable, but she’d still hoped that gradually some kind of plan might form in her mind. Mr Phipps had left them, and she had stripped the bed and cleaned up the room – not that he had left it untidy, but because, since the recent revelations, she somehow felt the need to rid the house of a police presence. It had been humiliating to realize that now, in Leonard Phipps’ eyes, she was no longer a respectable citizen, but the wife of a criminal. And in her own eyes John Daye’s behaviour had lowered her in her own estimation and had sullied her family. Hopefully, her father had not realized the full significance of the events of the past few days, but he had said all along that John was not all he claimed to be. He had thought her husband a spy!

‘And I thought Father was being paranoid! Love is certainly blind!’ she whispered. And poor Leonard Phipps had had the thankless task of breaking her heart when he told her the truth. Yes. He’d had to go. She knew it was illogical, but she felt better now that the spare room was restored to its usual condition.

By morning Lydia had worked out a possible plan of action. It was far from ideal, but it might see them through the next few months – by which time Dolly’s baby would be born and they could reconsider the future. First, however, she needed to gain her father’s approval, so immediately after the midday meal she drew him into the garden for a private conversation.

‘I’m wondering, Father,’ she began hesitantly, ‘whether or not we should offer Dolly the chance to live with us for a while – at least until she has her child. She seems to be without money or any means of support and appears to think she will get a job as a companion.’

‘She has a family, doesn’t she?’

‘They are apparently at loggerheads.’

‘She might get a job, you say, as a companion. Perhaps she will.’

‘And perhaps she won’t. At least, not in her present condition. If she were not . . . in the family way she would stand a better chance. Who would want to choose a companion who is about to . . . to become a mother, with all the disruption that will cause?’

Her father paused to de-head three of the nearest roses. Having picked them, he examined the faded petals, lost interest and dropped them on to the ground. ‘She seems a nice enough woman,’ he said mildly.

‘I think she is, and she has also suffered at the hands of John or Don or whatever his name is. Was,’ she corrected herself. Realizing that she sounded like a shrew, she said, ‘I’m sorry, Father, but I’m finding it very hard to forgive my husband for what he has done. I try not to be bitter for Adam’s sake – I am terrified for the future if he should ever find out the truth!’

‘You are entitled to feel that way, Liddy. You must not be so hard on yourself.’ He bent to pull up a few dandelion leaves which, for some reason best known to himself, he then put in his jacket pocket. ‘The man deceived and betrayed you. That is an undeniable fact. He’s an absolute bounder!’

‘Was, Father. He’s dead now.’

‘Dead? Is that so?’

‘I did tell you.’ She took a deep breath. ‘He fell from a rooftop.’

‘Ah yes. So he did.’

‘You were right about him. I should have listened to you from the start, but I was so . . .’ She bit back the words, still afraid that her anger would make her say something she might regret.

‘You loved him, my dear. We all make mistakes.’ He glanced round the garden, eyes narrowed. ‘Well, if he comes back here – if he sets a foot in this place again – he’ll regret it! Spy or no spy, I’ll throw the wretch out on his ear!’

‘He won’t, Father. Remember what I told you? He was killed trying to evade the law. He fell from a roof and was killed.’

‘Killed? Good Lord!’ He rapped his head with his knuckles. ‘I can’t seem to hold a sensible thought for more than five minutes!’

‘So, Father, what do you think about asking Dolly to stay for a while. A few weeks or months, maybe? Shall we ask her?’

‘By all means. Yes, indeed. You do what you think best.’ He frowned. ‘What’s happened to the swing, Liddy? Robert’s swing. I was thinking that Adam might like it. He’d like to have a swing. All children like to have a swing.’

Lydia sighed but forced a smile. ‘I think the ropes wore out a long time ago, but . . .’

‘And Robert has grown out of it.’

‘Yes. We’ll buy another one for Adam. That’s a very good idea!’

George’s face brightened at once. ‘He’ll like that.’ Suddenly, he fished out of his pocket the already wilting dandelion leaves, dropped them on to the path and ground them with the sole of his shoe. ‘Beastly things, weeds!’ he said. ‘I never could abide them.’

Without giving herself time to consider further, Lydia went to find Dolly and put the suggestion to her.

‘You could have Mr Phipps’ room,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t be a servant or anything like that because we couldn’t pay you, but you could “live in” . . .’

Dolly’s eyes lit up at the offer, and she thought quickly. ‘I could earn my keep, anyway. I could help you with Adam and your father, so that would take some of the strain off you. I was thinking of being a companion to someone rich, but it would be more fun here with you! And I love your little boy, and your father and I get along.’ She grinned. ‘So I’ll say yes before you change your mind. And when the baby comes . . .’

‘We’ll deal with it together!’

They regarded each other warily, almost afraid to believe that this might solve most of their problems.

Dolly spoke first. ‘So is Mr Phipps’ room mine now?’

‘Yes. The bed’s made up. You can move right in.’

It almost seemed too easy, thought Lydia, always cautious. Nervously, she crossed her fingers. She said, ‘It won’t be all clear sailing. I’m sure things will go wrong sometimes. They always do, but . . .’

‘We’ll get by!’ Dolly laughed. ‘What would Don say if he could see us now? He spent so much time and effort keeping the two of us apart, and instead he’s brought us together!’

Lydia sighed. ‘I’m trying not to think of him,’ she confessed. ‘I swing between hating him and loving him . . . and most of all despising myself for being stupid enough to believe all his lies.’

‘We were both tricked,’ Dolly told her soberly. ‘We trusted him because we loved him – and he betrayed us both. It’s as simple as that.’

Epilogue

Dolly had taken seven-year-old Adam and little Clara to the park for an hour to give Lydia a quiet house in which to talk to the new doctor about her father’s problems while George rested upstairs.

Dr Neath was in his thirties, with curly fair hair, pale-blue eyes and an unassuming manner. As they stood on the doorstep, he shook her hand warmly, smiling as he introduced himself. He had an honest face, she thought, and she felt intuitively that she would be able to rely on him, although she would miss Doctor Wills, who had been their family doctor for as long as she could remember.

‘I’m Howard Neath, Dr Wills’ replacement,’ he told her. ‘I believe he explained the situation with regard to his practice.’

‘He did, yes. Some time ago, actually, but it has finally come to pass. Do come in.’

The doctor stepped inside and took off his hat, and Lydia hung it on the coat rack. ‘His wife’s poor health means that he is retiring a little early.’

‘Yes, we’re all very sorry to lose him, but he has to put his family first. We understand that.’ She led Dr Neath into the front room, indicating a chair for him, then sat down and folded her hands in her lap. As always when meeting strangers, Lydia wondered how much this man knew about her unfortunate history but, as always, she did not volunteer anything. Research had reassured her that her marriage to John was legal so she was officially a widow. The extent of the deceit he had carried out had somehow stiffened her to counteract the shock of his death and soften the realization that he had probably never really loved her the way she had imagined.

Lydia and Dr Neath regarded each other from opposite sides of the fireplace as he settled himself in the armchair and put down his black bag. He appeared very at ease, she thought enviously, and found herself imagining him at the funeral of his wife and newborn child.

She said, ‘I’m sorry about your family. Losing them both that way must have been terrible for you.’

‘It was, of course, but sadly, as a doctor, I have never underestimated the risks posed by childbirth. Too much can go wrong, although we do the best we can and improvements in medical care are better than they have ever been. In spite of that, there is always the unexpected.’ He sighed. ‘But you, too, have suffered a loss, Mrs Daye, and poor little Adam lost a father who no doubt was dear to him.’

‘I think he has survived as well as could be expected. His school teacher says he seems happy, and he doesn’t have nightmares or anything.’ She looked at him fearfully. ‘I would hate to think his life has been blighted in some way that could never be put right. His father would have hated that. I know he loved the boy.’

‘I’m sure he did, Mrs Daye. Be reassured on that score. The details are in your family notes, naturally, and I can understand what a setback that must have been for you. Your husband . . . his betrayal . . . all very fraught. Dr Wills said that you were very brave in the face of such adversity and that he saw little sign of any mental damage to your son.’ He smiled. ‘He describes you as an excellent mother.’

‘He’s very kind.’ She smiled wryly. ‘It was more a case of survival!’

For a moment neither spoke.

‘But life goes on,’ he said softly. ‘We carry on because there is no alternative.’

Lydia nodded – then, fearful that his sympathy would undermine her, she took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter. ‘At least we are reasonably secure. That was a worry when my husband died, but our family solicitor helped me untangle the family finances, which sadly were beyond my father. We discovered an endowment plan of which I knew nothing, and it has helped considerably.’

‘Money can be bewildering in its complexity!’ he agreed.

Just then a large tabby cat slid in at the door and headed straight for the visitor and jumped on to his lap.

‘Sooty! Get down.’ Lydia jumped to her feet apologetically. ‘Let me take him! Many people don’t care for cats.’

He made a dismissive gesture, smiling. ‘He’s fine. Or is it a she? I like cats.’

‘My son’s beloved tabby is a “he” by the name of Sooty!’ She was reminded of her husband’s reaction to animal fur, but pushed the unwelcome thought from her. She had long since decided to keep thoughts of John at bay and was relieved that lately, since starting school, the number of Adam’s questions about his father had lessened. She had told her son a part truth – that John had been mending a roof, but had fallen and died. Adam still liked to find John’s photographs in the album, and Lydia did nothing to discourage him, but she felt it unfair and unnecessary to give him too much unpalatable information. The time for the truth might come later – it might not.

‘It is my father who gives me the most concern,’ she told the doctor, ‘and that is why I have asked you to call. His vagueness is increasing, and he seems depressed. I don’t know how I will manage without my friend Dolly, who currently lives with us but will soon be marrying and moving away.’

Lydia refrained from explaining that Dolly, against Lydia’s advice, was corresponding with her new fiancé Willis Burke who, given a lighter sentence, was due for release from prison in two weeks’ time.