they will. But what about Tom? He’s a grown man. He’s got some say in what happens to him.’
‘Yes, of course, but . . . well, he’ll only go against them so far. Stands to reason. Oh, Abbie, I love him. I couldn’t bear it if anything should go wrong.’
‘Nothing’s going to go wrong. And if Tom loves you as he says he does it won’t make any difference.’
Beatie returned to her duties the following day and on the Wednesday Abbie received a letter from her. It was full of hope and happiness. She and Tom had talked, Beatie wrote, and everything was going to be all right. Although Tom had already learned about their mother’s departure he did not appear to be unduly perturbed by the knowledge. And as for his parents, although they were unhappy about it he was sure that in time their doubts would pass.
Abbie sighed with relief on reading Beatie’s letter. It had been a lingering concern in connection with her mother’s leaving. But now it was over and Beatie, like the rest of them, could start to get on with her life again.
PART TWO
Chapter Five
‘D’you realize what today is?’ Abbie asked, looking up from the table where she sat writing a letter.
Eddie, standing at the mirror, gave a nod. ‘It’s Friday.’
‘I don’t mean the day. I mean the date.’
He turned, gazed at her blankly for a second then said, ‘It’s the seventh, is it?’
‘Yes. Six years tonight since Mother went.’
They spoke of their mother only rarely and when they did it was as if they were speaking of some distant relative, or some acquaintance who had once touched their lives but was no longer a part of them. In all those six years they had heard not one single word from her beyond the three letters she had left behind on the night of her going.
And neither had they had much word of her. All they knew was that she was no longer with Jack Pattison. Not long after the two of them had left the village Pattison’s wife had given up the post office and moved to Bath to live with her mother. A year or so later, Eddie came to Abbie with the news that Pattison had returned to his wife and that they were once again living together.
For a little while Eddie had considered going to Bath to find Pattison, to ‘teach him a lesson’, but after consideration he had decided against it. Perhaps, Abbie had thought, having never forgiven their mother for her action, he no longer cared that much about her.
Eddie, now showing no interest in the anniversary of their mother’s going, turned back to the glass. Abbie watched him as he smoothed a palm over his hair. Nearly twenty, he was a good-looking young man, straight, broad in the shoulders and already taller than their father. He looked very fit with his smooth skin bronzed by the sun, which had also bleached the crown of his fair hair a pale shade of yellow. Abbie studied him, taking in his wide-set grey eyes, his straight, perfectly shaped nose. Tonight he was wearing his best jacket, his new corduroy trousers and his best shirt. He stepped back for a final appraisal, then moved to the vase of flowers that stood in the centre of the table and selected a pink rose, its bud just half opened. Turning back to the glass, he tried the flower against his jacket, then, satisfied, cut the stem with his pocket knife and pinned it into his buttonhole.
‘And very fetching indeed,’ Abbie said approvingly. ‘I’m sure Violet will be most taken with you.’
He shot a glance of suspicion at her, which she met with eyes of innocence. Smiling, she said, ‘No, Eddie, it looks very nice. Truly.’
‘Yeh?’
‘Yes, really.’
Apart from his maturing he had not changed that much over the years, she thought. He was still the same warm-hearted, exuberant rough diamond. It was just that now some of his interests were different. Whereas in earlier days he had spent his leisure time in boisterous pursuits with his friends, he now preferred, when it was possible, to spend it with one
‘Yes, of course, but . . . well, he’ll only go against them so far. Stands to reason. Oh, Abbie, I love him. I couldn’t bear it if anything should go wrong.’
‘Nothing’s going to go wrong. And if Tom loves you as he says he does it won’t make any difference.’
Beatie returned to her duties the following day and on the Wednesday Abbie received a letter from her. It was full of hope and happiness. She and Tom had talked, Beatie wrote, and everything was going to be all right. Although Tom had already learned about their mother’s departure he did not appear to be unduly perturbed by the knowledge. And as for his parents, although they were unhappy about it he was sure that in time their doubts would pass.
Abbie sighed with relief on reading Beatie’s letter. It had been a lingering concern in connection with her mother’s leaving. But now it was over and Beatie, like the rest of them, could start to get on with her life again.
PART TWO
Chapter Five
‘D’you realize what today is?’ Abbie asked, looking up from the table where she sat writing a letter.
Eddie, standing at the mirror, gave a nod. ‘It’s Friday.’
‘I don’t mean the day. I mean the date.’
He turned, gazed at her blankly for a second then said, ‘It’s the seventh, is it?’
‘Yes. Six years tonight since Mother went.’
They spoke of their mother only rarely and when they did it was as if they were speaking of some distant relative, or some acquaintance who had once touched their lives but was no longer a part of them. In all those six years they had heard not one single word from her beyond the three letters she had left behind on the night of her going.
And neither had they had much word of her. All they knew was that she was no longer with Jack Pattison. Not long after the two of them had left the village Pattison’s wife had given up the post office and moved to Bath to live with her mother. A year or so later, Eddie came to Abbie with the news that Pattison had returned to his wife and that they were once again living together.
For a little while Eddie had considered going to Bath to find Pattison, to ‘teach him a lesson’, but after consideration he had decided against it. Perhaps, Abbie had thought, having never forgiven their mother for her action, he no longer cared that much about her.
Eddie, now showing no interest in the anniversary of their mother’s going, turned back to the glass. Abbie watched him as he smoothed a palm over his hair. Nearly twenty, he was a good-looking young man, straight, broad in the shoulders and already taller than their father. He looked very fit with his smooth skin bronzed by the sun, which had also bleached the crown of his fair hair a pale shade of yellow. Abbie studied him, taking in his wide-set grey eyes, his straight, perfectly shaped nose. Tonight he was wearing his best jacket, his new corduroy trousers and his best shirt. He stepped back for a final appraisal, then moved to the vase of flowers that stood in the centre of the table and selected a pink rose, its bud just half opened. Turning back to the glass, he tried the flower against his jacket, then, satisfied, cut the stem with his pocket knife and pinned it into his buttonhole.
‘And very fetching indeed,’ Abbie said approvingly. ‘I’m sure Violet will be most taken with you.’
He shot a glance of suspicion at her, which she met with eyes of innocence. Smiling, she said, ‘No, Eddie, it looks very nice. Truly.’
‘Yeh?’
‘Yes, really.’
Apart from his maturing he had not changed that much over the years, she thought. He was still the same warm-hearted, exuberant rough diamond. It was just that now some of his interests were different. Whereas in earlier days he had spent his leisure time in boisterous pursuits with his friends, he now preferred, when it was possible, to spend it with one
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