Enduring Passions by David Wiltshire Page B

wouldn’t be able to see her father now, at least until after the weekend, and by then it would be too late.
    Whatever that meant.
    She handed Jenny over to the groom, gave her a scratch and a kiss and made for a hot bath.
    Julie helped her off with her boots then bustled away to run the hot water. Fay had taken off her hat, now she reached up and released her hair from the strong net that had contained it through thick and thin all day.
    When the maid came back she had already stripped and put on her dressing-gown.
    ‘Julie, can you see if the Echo has come? I’ll have it in the bathroom if it has.’
    She was immersed in soapy water when a knock came on the door and Julie entered.
    ‘It’s here, miss – and a letter for you marked “personal”. It came in the second post.’
    She dried her trembling hands then took the envelope. It was postmarked Cheltenham. Tummy churning, she didn’t recognize the neat careful writing.
    ‘Anything else, miss?’
    Hardly able to contain herself she just managed to nod at the wall heater. Whether it was fear or excitement she didn’t know but her shoulders seemed suddenly cold.
    ‘Turn on the heater, please.’
    As soon as Julie had gone she tore open the envelope and read the letter. It took several attempts before she finally managed to calm down enough to realize that he would be at the Cadena in Cheltenham at eleven o’clock, and that seemed very polite and proper. She gave a sigh of relief, read it once more, noting his address, and the way he signed Tom Roxham with a bit of a flourish. She put it on to the cork-topped table beside the bath.
    She just lay there for a long time, almost dazed by the speed of the events, then remembered the Echo .
    It would be a good idea to have some suggestions of what they might do – if she stayed.
    She took the paper up and turned the pages until she came to theentertainments and features section.
    It hit her almost immediately. The advertisement carried a photograph and an article on the event. If they went to it, it would give them all afternoon to find out about each other, and she could duck out of the evening if it was a disaster. That made her feel better.
    And it sounded fun.
    She let the paper drop to the floor and submerged herself to her chin.
    And if he was ‘ all right ’, what then?
    Despite the heat of the bath water, she shivered.
    It was becoming a familiar sensation.

CHAPTER FIVE
    It was lucky that, in their household, Friday night was bath night. Tom had considered going to the municipal baths, where, for sixpence, you could have a sumptuously big tub of hot water and a small bar of coal-tar soap. But then his mother and father would have got suspicious if he hadn’t joined the family in their weekly ritual.
    The long galvanized bath that hung on the outside wall of the scullery had been brought in and placed before the range in the living-room. Hot water from the boiler, which was used in the week for the laundry, was poured in by the bucketful. Mum went first, then Gran, followed by Dad. Tom brought up the rear, sometimes lucky enough to have some of the used water baled out and the odd fresh one or two bucketfuls added. Now, in his winceyette pyjamas and warm in bed, his mother came to kiss him goodnight. He rolled on to his side and again thought about tomorrow . Would it be a fine, sunny day? His gran said ‘yes’. There had been a red sky that night and the bladder-wrack seaweed from Barry Island hanging out by the WC was flat – he thought. He could never remember whether that was good or not.
    Tom knew what he was going to wear, his Harris Tweed jacket with grey flannel trousers and his Oxford brogues. Of course, as soon as they all saw him dressed up like that they would know something was up.
    Restless, he turned over, punched the pillow, and tried to get to sleep.
    But it was impossible. His heart was racing, he could feel his pulse in his ears. All of a sudden he had just the faintest of faint ideas