‘Hey! I’m a good driver! I take Mrs Davidson and her daughter all over the place, as well you know.’
Charlie was having none of it. ‘I don’t give a bugger what yer get up to wi’ other folks. Yer not driving my Elsie, an’ that’s an end to it.’
Climbing down the steps, he hurried to where Elsie had leaned her bike against the wall on her return home earlier. Taking it by the handlebars, he walked it back to Elsie and thrust it at her. ‘For me, lass,’ he pleaded. ‘Do it for me, ’cause it would mek me feel content, to know yer were safe, on yer bike,’ he sneered at the black car, ‘’stead o’ being rattled about in that there ve’ickle.’
Put like that, Elsie could not refuse him. ‘The trouble with you, Charlie, is that you refuse to catch up with the times. All you know is horses and bicycles.’
‘Aye, an’ that’s all I need to know, an’ all!’ His parting words were for Adam and his shiny, new car. ‘’Orses will be ’ere long after then noisy damned things ’ave ’ad their day.’
‘All right, I’ll go on my bike,’ Elsie assured him. ‘Now you get back inside and put your feet up by the fire. I’ll not be long.’
With that she set off on her treasured steed through the chilly evening air, with Adam following in the car and feeling like a right fool; though he had to smile at what he thought was a comical situation.
THE FIRST MARY knew about the arrangement was when Elsie marched into the kitchen. ‘Right then, miss, you get off and see to your visitor while I crack on with the meal.’ She cast an experienced eye over the preparations. ‘Well now! You’ve already done the vegetables and got the meat sizzling away in the oven. There’s not all that much left for me to do, is there, bar serve it and clear it all away. I’ll make a nice drop of gravy, shall I?’
Caught unawares, Mary asked her, ‘This is Mother’s doing, isn’t it? She sent for you. Poor Elsie, I’m sorry for all the trouble you’ve been put to. Wouldn’t you rather be at home with your Charlie?’
‘No. I’d rather be here, cooking for you and earning double time, than listening to my old man snoring his head off.’
‘All right then,’ Mary conceded, ‘but only on one condition.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Put a plateful out for yourself. There’ll be more than enough, and if there’s any left over, take it home to Charlie.’
‘I will, thank you.’
Mary gave her a hug. ‘Thank you, Elsie. I won’t forget this.’ Washing her hands and patting her hair, she asked the woman shyly, ‘Do I look respectable?’
‘You look lovely.’ Elsie had always thought Lucy’s daughter had something special. Though she wasn’t beautiful, she had a spark about her … soft, shining eyes of the loveliest shade, and a kind of warmth that endeared you to her. ‘Go on, miss … go and rescue your young man. I’ll have supper on the table in twenty minutes.’
Mary found Ben in the summerhouse. All the lights were on, and he was sitting in one of the easy chairs, deep in thought. ‘Hiding from my mother, are you?’ Her smile lit up the evening.
Having been miles away, reflecting on his disastrous marriage and the years he’d wasted, Ben was mortified. ‘What must you both think of me?’ he said. ‘I’m invited to supper and here I am, lounging in the summerhouse. I only meant to be a few minutes but lost track of time.’ On his feet now, he smiled down on her. ‘It’s your fault, you know.’
‘Oh, and why’s that?’ It was strange, Mary thought, how she felt as though she’d known him all her life.
He gestured towards the garden. ‘Your mother’s right. You’ve done wonders with the garden … it’s just beautiful. So many lovely hidden places.’ It wasn’t hard to imagine what a feast of life and colour it would be in the height of summer. ‘If you wanted to, you could lose yourself forever here.’
‘And do you want to lose yourself?’ Just now when she came upon him unexpectedly, she had seen the sadness in his eyes, and it touched her deeply.
It took a few seconds for him to answer. There was so much he could have told her, but that was all gone now, water under the bridge as they say. Besides, if he didn’t let go of the past, how could he ever have a future? Turning to her, he recalled, ‘It was you who said there are times when we all need to hide from the world.’
Her blue eyes shone with mischief. ‘And here was I, thinking you were hiding from Mother!’
He chuckled heartily. For a moment he studied her upturned face, the full plumpness of her lips, the small straight nose and smiling eyes, and he felt a rush of contentment. If he let himself go, he could love this woman, he thought. But if he let himself go, he could lose his heart and be hurt, again.
He looked towards the house. ‘Have you come to fetch me?’
She nodded her head. ‘Dinner will be ready soon.’
‘Do we still have a few minutes?’
She nodded her head again.
Taking her by the hand, he asked light-heartedly, ‘Would you care to join me?’ Leading her to the bench, he sat her down. ‘Welcome to Paradise.’
For a little while they sat and talked and laughed, and when she gave a long, trembling shiver, he dared to put his arm round her shoulders, and like Ben, she was afraid, of her feelings, and of the future.
Suddenly their private idyll was shattered, when a homely figure came rushing round the corner, calling out: ‘Supper’s ready. Your mammy says you’re to come in out of the cold.’ Elsie chuckled merrily. ‘I’m to tell you, she doesn’t mind you canoodling out here, but she doesn’t want you catching pneumonia, and if I can’t persuade you back into the house, she’ll be out here and she’ll chase you both inside with her walking stick. What’s more, I’ve made a big jug of creamy custard, and I’d like Mr Morris to enjoy my apple-pie while it’s hot. It’s a deep-dish pie, stuffed with best cooking apples and covered in pastry that’ll melt in your mouth. It’s only reheated, mind, but I made it fresh yesterday.’
Ben’s stomach rumbled. ‘Sounds wonderful.’
‘I’m not one for singing my own praises,’ Elsie declared self-righteously, ‘but I do make the best apple-pie in the whole of Bedfordshire, and woe betide them as says any different.’
The evening was a great success.
The pork chops were succulent, and the vegetables done to a turn, and just as she’d promised, Elsie’s apple-pie was the best Ben had ever tasted. Lucy had produced a bottle of wine and drank more than the others put together. She also did most of the talking. She told Ben about her hometown of Liverpool and got carried away with the memories – though there was one particular memory she did not divulge.
‘What did you love most about Liverpool?’ Ben asked, intrigued by her stories.
‘Oh, the docks, and the Mersey of course!’ Taking another sip of her red wine, Lucy savoured it for a moment, rolling it round her tongue and smacking her lips, like a dog after a bone.
Ben was ashamed to admit it, but he’d never seen the Mersey.
‘Maybe you’d think she was nothing out of the ordinary – just another river flowing away to the sea,’ Lucy speculated, ‘but to the ones who’ve lived and worked alongside her for most of their lives, she’s very special. She changes, y’see – from day to day she’s never the same. She has moods just like us … dark moods, quiet moods … and after a while you get to know her, and you