was, just after nine in the morning, and while they were eating breakfast, the Coles were at it again. It even disturbed Jack this time and he looked up from his morning paper to say, ‘I don’t know what’s going on next door, but they’re making a hell of a racket.’
Something thumped loudly against the adjoining wall, and Mabel jumped. ‘It sounds like someone’s throwing furniture around.’
‘Yes, it does,’ Jack agreed. ‘Maybe I should go and see what’s going on.’
‘No, don’t do that. It’s none of our business,’ Mabel said, ‘and anyway, if there’s some sort of fight going on, I don’t want you getting involved in it.’
‘All right, I’ll stay put,’ Jack agreed.
There was more shouting, but then abruptly, blissfully, it all went quiet. ‘Well I don’t know what that was all about,’ Mabel said.
‘Me neither,’ Jack replied, but then went back to his newspaper.
For a moment Mabel wondered if she should go next door to check that everyone was all right, but then decided against it. Frank Cole would only slam the door in her face again.
Mabel ruminated, wondering again if she was right, that instead of Rose, it had been Daphne Cole who had gone off with George Frost. The dates matched, but once again she had kept her suspicions to herself.
Mind you, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell Phyllis. After all, no doubt it would come to light one day, these things always did – and then, Mabel thought, smiling smugly – she’d be proved right.
Unaware that anything untoward had happened in the Coles’ house, Amy was sitting beside Tommy in the registry office, fiddling with her engagement ring. She loved the diamond solitaire, and though she knew Tommy would have liked the stone to be a bigger one, Amy was happy with his choice. On her small, thin finger the diamond appeared large, and now, looking up, Amy had to smile at the scene of Rose standing beside the rotund, grey-haired Samuel Jacobs as the two of them listened to the registrar’s words. Rose looked lovely in a pale pink, shot silk suit, her hat pink too and delightfully frivolous with its tiny veil.
‘My feet are killing me,’ her mother hissed from Amy’s other side. ‘One of the straps on these sandals is cutting into my big toe.’
‘I’ve got a plaster in my handbag,’ Amy hissed back, thinking that though her mother was complaining, she looked lovely too in a beige suit and hat, the brim trimmed with white ribbon which matched her bag and sandals. It had been hard to find suitable outfits that didn’t cost a fortune, but they’d been lucky when they found a ladies’ dress shop that was shutting down. With a bit of bargaining, her mother had got her hat thrown in too, but Amy didn’t think that any she tried on suited her, so had decided not to wear one.
It had been a lovely surprise to find that Rose had arranged a car to pick them up, so they had arrived in style, but now Amy looked at the other guests, two dour-faced middle-aged couples. They had hardly acknowledged them when they turned up, and Amy wasn’t looking forward to sitting with them in the restaurant. She felt it might be a bit strained, but then to her surprise it was suddenly all over. It had happened so quickly, but Rose and Samuel Jacobs signed the register, and then shortly afterwards they were all outside.
‘Congratulations,’ her mother said to Rose and Mr Jacobs.
‘Yes, from me too,’ said her dad, shaking the old man’s hand.
‘Thank you,’ he said, smiling.
The other two couples said nothing but Amy stepped forward to kiss Rose on the cheek. ‘You look lovely,’ she enthused, and meant it. ‘Congratulations.’
‘You look lovely too,’ Rose said. ‘The table is booked for two so I think we should make our way to the restaurant.’
One of the dour-faced men stepped forward then and said, ‘Samuel, we won’t be coming. Rachel is rather tired.’
‘I see, and what about you, Sidney? Will you and Helen be joining us?’
‘We’ve got a long drive home, so no.’
‘Right, goodbye then,’ Samuel said shortly.
‘They don’t like me,’ Rose said as they walked away.
‘It’s the thought of losing my money they don’t like. Now come, my dear, let’s get to the restaurant.’
‘Phyllis, the car is still waiting for you so we’ll see you all there,’ Rose called.
The drive only took about ten minutes, and as soon as they walked into the restaurant they were led to a table. It looked lovely, with a white, crisp linen tablecloth, beautifully folded napkins and sparkling glasses. There seemed to be so much cutlery, several knives and forks laid out at each setting and Amy looked at them worriedly. She glanced at her mother, saw that she looked intimidated too, but then Rose hissed, ‘I was the same at first, but don’t panic. Just watch me and do what I do.’
They both smiled gratefully, and no sooner were they all seated than a waiter poured them a glass of what Amy supposed was champagne. To her surprise she saw her father rise to his feet to offer up his flute in a toast, ‘To Samuel and Rose.’
‘To Samuel and Rose,’ the rest of them chorused as Amy noticed that despite her mum’s best efforts, her dad’s old suit that he’d had for years still looked shiny. There had been no money left for a new one, but he hadn’t complained, happy for them to buy new clothes.
The meal began, and watching Rose, Amy was able to pick up the right cutlery for each course. Samuel Jacobs was charming, amusing, and Amy liked him. Her mother had always called their landlord an old skinflint, but she seemed to have warmed towards him too.
‘Rose has told me that you two are engaged,’ Samuel said. ‘Have you set a date for your wedding?’
‘Not yet,’ Amy replied.
‘When you do, and if you need a house to rent, just let me know and I’ll see what I can do.’
‘That’s jolly kind of you, sir,’ Tommy enthused.
‘Samuel, you must all call me Samuel, or Sam. After all, we’re family now.’
‘Here’s to that,’ Rose said, lifting her glass.
As Amy smiled at Tommy, she was unaware that her mother had had a sudden idea, or that she’d soon be in league with Rose to make sure that if possible, it would come to fruition.
Though they’d been over it before, Paul found himself talking about it again. ‘I was fuming, ready to lay into Dad, to pulverise him, but he was so pathetic that I couldn’t touch him.’
‘Yeah, I was the same,’ Dave said, ‘and I took my temper out on the furniture instead.’
‘What did he say about me?’ Carol asked anxiously, looking ridiculous in a pair of Dave’s rolled-up jeans and a shirt that came down to her knees.
‘That he was sorry, and sickened by what he’d done. He was drunk, Carol, and staggered into your room by mistake. He was so full of booze that the poor sod thought you were Mum.’
‘Yeah, he was crying like a baby,’ said Dave.
‘Yes, yes, you’ve already told me,’ Carol snapped, ‘but I don’t care what excuses he made, I’m not going home. Dad gets drunk every night and he might make the same mistake again.’
‘I don’t think he will. I think you’ll be safe now,’ Dave said.
‘You think I’d be safe! What good’s that?’ Carol said bitterly.
Paul realised that his sister was right. Carol had fought their dad off this time, but if the same thing happened there was no guarantee that she’d be able to again. ‘You’re not going home,’ he said firmly. ‘You’re staying here.’
‘Oh, thank goodness