Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection

They kissed again, and talked some more; the rain fell all about them and the skies grew black with the onset of night. ‘Time to go,’ he murmured, and she didn’t argue; though she longed for the day when the kisses wouldn’t stop there.

Arm-in-arm, oblivious to the rain, they walked back to Barden House, talking of their future, and contemplating the outcome of Tom’s visit to London. ‘We’ve got three full days before I leave,’ Tom reminded her. ‘Let’s make the most of it.’

That night, alone in the house, Kathy lay on the rug in front of the fire, her wistful gaze uplifted to the photograph of her father and the woman he had loved. ‘I wonder if I’ll ever know the same kind of happiness as you found,’ she whispered. ‘I know I’ll never want anyone else but Tom, but I’m so afraid I might lose him.’

The clock ticked on the mantelpiece and the minutes sped by. The heat from the cheery fire and the rhythmic sound of rain pattering on the window-panes made her sleepy. She thought how cosy it all was.

Yet it felt empty and cold without Tom. ‘Dear Lord, bring him safely home again.’ Believing we make our own mistakes and have to find our own solutions, Kathy rarely asked the Lord for anything, but at this moment she felt in need of comfort and reassurance.

After a while she fell asleep, her head resting on her arms and her heart heavy with love.

One way or another, it had been a long day.

Chapter 13 (#ulink_7cb300e7-8604-51c3-9f1c-6d595e8862bc)

WITH THE HOUSEWORK finished, Kathy got ready to go into Bridport, where she would get her weekly shop, and hopefully a few bargains from the market. ‘I’ll even have time to pop in and see Mabel,’ she told herself in the hallway mirror. She had come to look forward to their intimate little chats; though it was a furtive affair as her husband was always lurking in the background, ready to pounce.

Before leaving, she glanced at the mantel-clock. ‘Half past ten … plenty of time before I see Tom.’ They’d arranged to meet at six thirty, when he’d planned to take her into Dorchester for a quiet restaurant meal. It would be a real treat; they could sit and talk, and enjoy every possible minute before he took off for London on Tuesday.

Another glance in the mirror ensured she hadn’t forgotten anything: hair brushed, lipstick on; yes, that was all right. ‘Got my purse and bag … yes.’

At last, she was ready for off. Yet when she opened the door and saw the rain-clouds gathering, she decided, ‘Best take a coat, just in case!’

Going back to the peg in the hallway, she unhooked her mackintosh. Throwing it over her arm, she secured the front door, then made her way down the path, her gaze reaching towards the harbour, where she hoped she might see Tom.

He wasn’t there. ‘He’s probably getting ready for Tuesday,’ she muttered. The thought of him going away laid a dark cloud over her mood.

Unusually, the bus was on time. ‘Morning, Miss.’ The conductor was a funny chap, with the jerky manners and appearance of a bird.

Small and quick, he had a slightly bent head and pointed features, the most prominent of which was his long, narrow nose. ‘Morning,’ she replied brightly. ‘How are you today?’ Rain or shine, he always seemed to have one thing or another wrong with him: either it was too hot for him to breathe, or it was so wet it got into his bones. Today was no different.

He gave a strangled groan. ‘It’s my back,’ he answered painfully. ‘I got out of bed this morning and could hardly walk.’

Kathy always sympathised, which was fatal because now he made a beeline for her every time. ‘You’ll have to see a doctor,’ she advised, handing him her fare.

‘Seen him already … that many times I might as well set up house in the surgery.’ Turning the rachet on his ticket-machine, he expelled her ticket and handed it to her. ‘I’m a martyr to pain, that’s what I am,’ he moaned, before moving on, at surprising speed, to another passenger, where exactly the same conversation ensued.

A while later, the bus turned into the stop and Kathy got off. ‘See you later,’ the conductor told her.

Kathy smiled and waved. ‘Poor devil!’ On this particular journey he had even found time to sit beside her, regaling her with stories of his bad leg and his poor heart, and the awkward way he had to lie in bed because of his back pain.

Though she would rather have spent the journey sitting on her own, thinking about her and Tom, Kathy didn’t begrudge the conductor a few minutes of her time.

Quickly covering the few hundred yards along Bridport High Street, she breezed into the market. This was a place she loved; with its many stalls and colourful stallholders, it had a cheery, happy atmosphere. ‘Got some lovely red apples … tanner a bag,’ one chap called; being fond of a good apple, Kathy promptly bought a bag.

For the next hour or so she went from stall to stall. She chose some chintz fabric to make a set of curtains for the bathroom, and for fourpence-halfpenny she purchased a small, pretty picture of a sailing boat to hang on the hallway wall. She was slowly adding her own touches to Barden House. She bought fresh bread from the baker’s stall, some vegetables from the greengrocer, and a scrubbing-brush for the back step, where the gutter dripped and made a mess.

When her bag was full and her feet were beginning to ache, she made her way to the café.

Pleased to see that the window-table was empty, Kathy went inside. Dropping her heavy bag to the floor, she sat herself down. ‘Morning, madam, what would you like?’ The waitress was a sloppy young thing, with a face that said, ‘I couldn’t care less what you want, just order it and let me get back to my wireless.’

Her off-hand manner didn’t bother Kathy one iota. ‘Dandelion and burdock, please.’

Without a word the waitress moved off to fetch her drink.

Meanwhile, Kathy was expecting Mabel to appear any minute. But there was no sign of her. When the waitress returned with her order, Kathy asked, ‘Is Mabel in today?’

‘Not today, no.’

‘Is she all right?’

‘Who knows?’ Shrugging her shoulders, she hurried away. Nat King Cole was in the middle of his song, ‘Unforgettable’. Being a great fan of his, she didn’t want to miss it.

Kathy was worried. It wasn’t like Mabel to miss work. Kathy thought her to be of an age when most people retired, but Mabel just kept going. Whether it was from choice or necessity wasn’t clear, but she hardly stopped, at least from what Kathy had seen on a busy day. And in this café, most days were busy.

While she sipped her drink, Kathy was acutely aware of Mabel’s husband peering at her from behind the serving hatch. She didn’t care much for him, so she averted her eyes as much as possible.

When she went up to the counter to pay, he was standing by the till. She counted out the coins and placed them on the counter. ‘Is your wife all right?’ she asked.

‘Gone to see her brother!’ he grunted. He then slapped her change onto the counter, and took himself off at great speed into the kitchen.

Kathy neither liked nor believed him. Never mind that his manner was highly suspicious, when he told her that Mabel was with her brother, Kathy knew he was lying.

Mabel herself had told her how she had not spoken to her brother in years because of something that happened before the war. Looking back, it had been something and nothing, Mabel had told her, but they had lost touch. Now Mabel did not know where her brother was; it was a great sadness to her.

Now, as Kathy put the change into her purse, she was aware of someone watching her. When she looked up, it was to see Mabel’s husband disappearing behind the kitchen door. ‘He’s hiding something,’ she muttered as she went down the street. ‘Why is he lying about Mabel?’

At the bus stop she took out her handbag and, rummaging through it, found the piece of paper with Mabel’s address. ‘I wonder …’ She remembered it wasn’t too far away, but did she have enough time?

By the time the bus pulled in, Kathy’s mind was made up. ‘Sorry,’ she apologised to the conductor, who was urging her on board, ‘I’ll catch the next one.’

She went down the High Street and, finding the street where Mabel lived, she hurried past the cottages until she found the right one. She thought it strange though that all the curtains were drawn.

Apprehensive now, Kathy tapped on the front door. When there was no answer, she lifted the knocker and let it drop. When there was still no answer she dropped her bag to the ground, opened the letter-flap and, putting her mouth close so as not to disturb the neighbours, she called out, ‘MABEL! It’s me, Kathy. MABEL, are you in there?’ The silence was deafening. ‘Answer me, Mabel. Are you all right?’

Squinting through the letter-flap, she could just make out a dark shape, right there on the floor at the foot of the stairs. ‘MABEL!’ She believed it must be Mabel, lying unconscious, unmoving, arms spreadeagled and her legs twisted in a peculiar fashion. ‘Oh, my God … MABEL!’ Still there was no answer, and not a flicker of movement.

With her heart in her mouth, Kathy realised there was no time to be lost.

Running to the nearest neighbour, she banged her two fists on the door. Startled by all the noise, the man flung open the door. ‘What the devil’s going on?’

‘It’s Mabel! I think she’s fallen down the stairs … she’s not moving. We need to get an ambulance … quickly!’

Flinging on his shirt, he told her, ‘The nearest phone box is at the end of the street. You run and phone the ambulance, while I see if I can find something to get me inside the house.’

With that he hurried back inside his house, while Kathy went at a run down the street, leaving her shopping bag where it had fallen.

Once inside the phone box, she quickly got through to the emergency services. After giving Mabel’s address, she was instructed to ‘Get inside the house if you can, and stay with the injured woman. Keep her calm and still. The ambulance will be there in ten minutes.’