looking up.
D OREEN J ENKINSON DROVE ROUND THE BACK STREETS of Tresham, taking books to old people who were housebound. She hadn’t much charitable instinct, but agreed to do it to enhance Howard’s public image. She wondered, not for the first time, how she was going to pay for the new dress. She had not told Howard, and as the days went by, she was increasingly reluctant to do so. There must be a way of adding to her bank balance without telling him. Perhaps she could borrow from her daughter? No, that would never do. She had always preserved the fiction that their father was a generous, warm-hearted man. The perfect father. It wouldn’t do to destroy the illusion now. She pulled up outside a terraced house in Sebastopol Street.
After a ten minutes talk with an old man living on his own, she emerged into the street and saw opposite the rainwear shop. Rain or Shine. A nice name. A shiny, sky blue jacket in the window attracted her attention, and she crossed the road to have a closer look. Not that she would consider buying it. She mustn’t spend another penny until next month. Still, she thought, gazing at it, it was very pretty and would be useful for summer showers. No harm in trying it on. Maybe it wasn’t her size. And anyway, if it was right for her, she could always get it next month. She opened the door and went in.
Once inside, Doreen looked around until a young man came in from the back room. “Morning, Madam,” he said pleasantly, eyeing her up and down. “You just caught me before I shut up shop.” Oh dear, it was one of the occasional old ducks who wandered in without realising. Or would she surprise him? He would be closing soon, and it was always pleasant to make a sale at the last minute.
“It was that jacket, the blue one in the window,” Doreen said. She glanced around quickly, and couldn’t see much in the way of clothes display.
“Very pretty, that one, and so smooth to the touch,” said Fergus. “Would you like to try it?”
Doreen looked at herself in the long mirror. It certainly suited her. Brings out my blue eyes, she said to herself.
“For hubby, is it?” Fergus said, with a knowing smile.
“What did you say?” Doreen frowned. “No, of course it’s not. It’s for me! Anyway,” she added, feeling more and more uncomfortable, “I’ll have to think about it. I come this way quite often, so I’ll look in again.” She took off the jacket, picked up her handbag and scuttled out. Something very odd about that place! For the moment she had forgotten her worrying overdraft, and turned back to check she’d shut the door. She didn’t want the man thinking she was alarmed. It was then she noticed the name over the door. There it was: R. Forsyth. The name on the envelope. Maybe Jean would know more about it. Perhaps she would own up to filching the envelope, and ask Jean more about it.
Then it clicked. Of course! She coloured with embarrassment. Rainwear! Smooth to the touch! Was it for hubby? Oh my God, Doreen, she accused herself, you are a silly fool—it was one of
those
shops! What on earth had that young man thought of her? She felt hot all over, and got into her car, grating the gears as she set off as if pursued by bears.
When she was home and settled with a calming cup of lea, she pondered again on the name Forsyth, on the shop sign, and on the envelope with its stamp destined for her grandson. And the sender. She looked again, and couldhardly make out the name. NF S something? … N … Colcombe … Norman! Norman Stevenson. A long-time customer of Rain or Shine? Or an errand-boy? She knew Howard kept in touch. There were telephone calls from the den. Was Howard up to something? Of course he was. He always was.
T WELVE
O DDLY ENOUGH , IT WAS L OIS WHO DISCOVERED WHAT Howard was up to, though in an accidental way. Now that her new office in Sebastopol Street was open, and Hazel was happily installed as manager four days a week, Lois often called in to pick up new
D OREEN J ENKINSON DROVE ROUND THE BACK STREETS of Tresham, taking books to old people who were housebound. She hadn’t much charitable instinct, but agreed to do it to enhance Howard’s public image. She wondered, not for the first time, how she was going to pay for the new dress. She had not told Howard, and as the days went by, she was increasingly reluctant to do so. There must be a way of adding to her bank balance without telling him. Perhaps she could borrow from her daughter? No, that would never do. She had always preserved the fiction that their father was a generous, warm-hearted man. The perfect father. It wouldn’t do to destroy the illusion now. She pulled up outside a terraced house in Sebastopol Street.
After a ten minutes talk with an old man living on his own, she emerged into the street and saw opposite the rainwear shop. Rain or Shine. A nice name. A shiny, sky blue jacket in the window attracted her attention, and she crossed the road to have a closer look. Not that she would consider buying it. She mustn’t spend another penny until next month. Still, she thought, gazing at it, it was very pretty and would be useful for summer showers. No harm in trying it on. Maybe it wasn’t her size. And anyway, if it was right for her, she could always get it next month. She opened the door and went in.
Once inside, Doreen looked around until a young man came in from the back room. “Morning, Madam,” he said pleasantly, eyeing her up and down. “You just caught me before I shut up shop.” Oh dear, it was one of the occasional old ducks who wandered in without realising. Or would she surprise him? He would be closing soon, and it was always pleasant to make a sale at the last minute.
“It was that jacket, the blue one in the window,” Doreen said. She glanced around quickly, and couldn’t see much in the way of clothes display.
“Very pretty, that one, and so smooth to the touch,” said Fergus. “Would you like to try it?”
Doreen looked at herself in the long mirror. It certainly suited her. Brings out my blue eyes, she said to herself.
“For hubby, is it?” Fergus said, with a knowing smile.
“What did you say?” Doreen frowned. “No, of course it’s not. It’s for me! Anyway,” she added, feeling more and more uncomfortable, “I’ll have to think about it. I come this way quite often, so I’ll look in again.” She took off the jacket, picked up her handbag and scuttled out. Something very odd about that place! For the moment she had forgotten her worrying overdraft, and turned back to check she’d shut the door. She didn’t want the man thinking she was alarmed. It was then she noticed the name over the door. There it was: R. Forsyth. The name on the envelope. Maybe Jean would know more about it. Perhaps she would own up to filching the envelope, and ask Jean more about it.
Then it clicked. Of course! She coloured with embarrassment. Rainwear! Smooth to the touch! Was it for hubby? Oh my God, Doreen, she accused herself, you are a silly fool—it was one of
those
shops! What on earth had that young man thought of her? She felt hot all over, and got into her car, grating the gears as she set off as if pursued by bears.
When she was home and settled with a calming cup of lea, she pondered again on the name Forsyth, on the shop sign, and on the envelope with its stamp destined for her grandson. And the sender. She looked again, and couldhardly make out the name. NF S something? … N … Colcombe … Norman! Norman Stevenson. A long-time customer of Rain or Shine? Or an errand-boy? She knew Howard kept in touch. There were telephone calls from the den. Was Howard up to something? Of course he was. He always was.
T WELVE
O DDLY ENOUGH , IT WAS L OIS WHO DISCOVERED WHAT Howard was up to, though in an accidental way. Now that her new office in Sebastopol Street was open, and Hazel was happily installed as manager four days a week, Lois often called in to pick up new
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