Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection

She was alive! He only had to glance at the painting and it would make him smile. Her very essence leaped off the canvas. She warmed to the eye and her image lingered in the mind.

Thinking of her now, he smiled freely.

‘Amy,’ he murmured.

Her name on his lips was like a song.

Part 2 (#ulink_b5f2a8b8-13cb-53f1-a3e0-2cfde8a964f5)

May 1933

The Child

Chapter 7 (#ulink_55f5e321-a50e-57b0-974e-a1f55a621382)

‘SO, HAVE YOU caught sight of her yet?’ Though harmless enough, old Alice was one of those women who was never happier than when somebody else was miserable.

Amy looked up from wrapping the two slices of bacon. ‘Who are we talking about now?’ She was used to Alice’s gossiping tongue.

‘The woman who’s just moved in, next door but one to me.’ Leaning forward she imparted in a harsh whisper, ‘There’s summat very strange about a woman who moves house in the middle of the night, don’t you think?’

‘Happen she works a late shift.’ Marie emerged from the back room just in time to catch Alice’s remark. ‘From what I hear, the poor woman arrived bag and baggage at half-past nine. I’d hardly call that the “middle of the night”.’

‘Well, I would!’ Alice retorted. ‘I’m away to my bed at nine o’clock, and I don’t take kindly to being woken by the slamming of doors. As for “bag and baggage”, I can tell you, all she had with her was a little lad in arms and a portmanteau no bigger than this ’ere shopping bag!’ Holding her canvas bag up high, she declared jubilantly, ‘Now then! You tell me that isn’t suspicious – arriving at half-past nine of an evening, with a hankie-sized portmanteau and a child in arms.’ Sliding her bag onto the counter, she folded her chubby arms and waited for an answer. ‘Well?’

Amy voiced what her mother was also thinking. ‘She wouldn’t have any need for much, would she?’

‘Oh, and why’s that, then?’

Amy shrugged. ‘Well, I mean … the house is fully furnished, isn’t it? Mac Robinson hasn’t sold up. Apparently, he intends coming back from Scotland at some point, and from what he told me, he left everything intact for the prospective tenant. Cutlery, crockery, furniture and such. He even had new sheets put on the beds.’

‘So?’ Alice was not impressed. ‘That doesn’t change anything. Even if Mac Robinson left the sheets and towels, you’d think a mother and child would need more than just the clothes on their backs. Because as far as I could tell when looking through the window, that’s more or less all they had with them.’

Her interest growing, Marie leaned on the counter. ‘Aye, well, if that’s the case, she deserves my sympathy. It sounds to me as though the poor soul is down on her luck.’

Amy was curious. ‘What does she look like?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t say she was anything special.’ In a superior voice, Alice described her in detail. ‘Short woman, narrow face and iron-red hair. Not her natural colour, I shouldn’t wonder. And if anything, she seemed a bit tatty, if you know what I mean?’ Squaring her shoulders with authority, she begrudgingly added, ‘Mind you, having said all that, she’s not a bad-looking woman, I suppose.’

Amy had a mental picture of this new neighbour and she felt a little sad. ‘I don’t think we should be talking about her like this.’ Reaching up to the shelf, she rearranged the boxes of Omo washing powder. ‘I think we should accept her for what she is, and count our own blessings.’

‘That’s what I say an’ all, lass.’ Cutting off a small square of butter, Marie carefully wrapped it before placing it on the counter. ‘There you are, Alice.’ Licking her pencil she totted up the amount on a notepad. ‘That’ll be one and ninepence, please.’

‘Hmm!’

Alice quickly paid and, after stuffing the groceries into her bag, she made for the door with a parting piece of advice. ‘You should be very careful who you make friends with.’ She cast a wary glance towards the door. ‘If you ask me, people like her need to be watched. There’s summat very fishy about that woman,’ she warned. ‘I’ve said it now, and I’ll say it again, anybody who moves house late at night, with a child in tow and hardly any belongings, has got summat to hide.’

Having said her piece, she marched out.

As she left, little Bob Ainsworth stumbled in. ‘Bloody hell!’ he chuckled. ‘The way she’s gone down that street, it’s like her knickers are on fire.’ A man in his seventies, he seemed to shrink with every passing day.

Marie and Amy both laughed. ‘Morning, Bob.’ Marie was already reaching under the counter. ‘After your baccy, is it?’

‘Aye … unless you’ve summat more appetising to offer a poor, lonely old fella?’

‘What did you have in mind then?’ As if she didn’t know. In varying forms, Marie had gone through this conversation with him every day since the shop opened.

He licked his lips. ‘Well now, being as you asked, you wouldn’t have a nice young lady under that counter, would you? Plump and merry, with a mind to keeping an old man happy.’

‘Sorry, Bob, we’re out of nice young ladies today … present company excepted, of course.’ In a more serious voice she warned, ‘You want to be careful. You know what happens to older men who take young ladies into their homes.’

Embarrassed, he made light of her remark. ‘Say what you like, there’s only one thing that could happen, and that’s me and her having a good time.’

Marie persisted, ‘I’m telling you, Bob, I’ve known it happen many a time. An old man takes a young woman into his home and, before you know it, she’s got her feet under the table and he’s out on the street, homeless and penniless.’

The widower gave a nervous grin. ‘D’you think I’m gullible enough to let that happen?’

‘You’re on your own, Bob, and from what you keep telling me, you’d welcome some young woman with open arms,’ Marie said kindly. ‘But think about it. Any young lady would want a man her own age. Unless o’ course she’s waiting for some gullible, randy old fool to come along; some poor bloke she can flutter her eyelashes at, before she robs him blind and walks away with everything he’s got.’

Bob took a minute to dwell on her words, and when he spoke, it was in a panic-stricken voice. ‘You heard me wrong, lass. I never said …’ He shook his head so hard, his eyes swivelled in their sockets. ‘I don’t know what you thought I meant, but you got it all wrong. All I meant to say was, I just thought it would be nice to have a bit of company, that’s all.’

To save his dignity, Marie went along with his bluff. ‘Oh, Bob, I am sorry,’ she said penitently. ‘You’re right. I must have misheard.’

‘Aye, you bloody well did, an’ all.’ Bristling with indignation he told her, ‘Just give me my baccy and I’ll be off. And mind what you say in future … I’m a respectable pillar of society and allus have been.’

A moment later, clutching his precious wad of baccy, he tumbled out of the shop, leaving Marie unusually quiet and Amy softly laughing, though when she caught sight of Marie deep in thought, she wondered if her mother was already regretting her harsh words to the old man.

Amy asked her now, ‘Why did you do that?’

‘Do what?’ Marie seemed agitated. ‘I didn’t “do” anything.’

‘Aw! Come off it, Mam,’ Amy chided. ‘You put the fear of God in him.’

‘I’m glad I did!’ Marie sharply rebuked her. ‘Anyway, it serves him right.’

Amy couldn’t agree. ‘You know Bob,’ Amy replied. ‘He’s a bit of a dreamer. If a woman threw herself at him, he’d run a mile.’

‘You could be right,’ Marie admitted. ‘Happen I were a bit hard on him.’ Her voice dropped to a softer tone, ‘Aw, look, lass. It was for his own good. Bob is a smashing bloke who’s worked hard all his life. He had fifty happy years of marriage with a good woman, and for most men that would be sufficient. He must be seventy-five if he’s a day, and here he is, talking about some young thing who would happily rob him of his life savings and even the roof over his head.’

‘But you don’t know that.’ Amy had never seen her mother so agitated. ‘And if you don’t mind me saying, Mam, it’s not like you to interfere in somebody else’s life.’

Marie fell silent for a time before confessing in a quiet voice. ‘I do know what I’m talking about, lass,’ she revealed quietly. ‘I’ve never spoken of it before but two years after we lost your grandma … my mother …’ she paused a moment, ‘… your grandad was terrible lonely. He was still a fair-looking fella, with a decent enough house … all paid for, and a few shilling in the bank. After a while he did what old Bob’s in danger of doing. When some young woman cocked her hat at him, he was flattered. Common sense flew out the window and eventually he took her into his house.’

Amy was astonished. ‘What happened?’

‘Your grandad doted on her, but it was never enough. She led him a right merry dance, I can tell you! Your father and me tried hard to persuade him to be rid of her, before she ruined him altogether. But would he listen … no! Until one night, when she thought he was asleep, he caught her going through his wallet.

‘He realised what a fool he’d been and he threw her on the streets where she’d come from. But not before she’d managed to spend every penny he’d put by, and sold a multitude of precious things which he’d got hidden away in the cupboards.’