Time to Say Goodbye Page 2

  Since Tom’s death, Ben had taken over the household accounts and was now responsible for paying the bills. In addition, he and George tended the grounds and ran the stud business, which was thankfully still thriving. It was just as well, for the money that Sunday’s mother had left her was long spent. Sunday’s mother – the late Lady Lavinia Huntley – and her second husband, had gone to live in the South of France to enjoy their twilight years together in the sun, and had sadly passed away within months of each other the year before. That had been yet another heartache for Sunday to bear, for once reunited with the mother she had never known she had as a child, they had forged a strong bond. Sunday had taken her passing badly.

  But now Cissie was determined that it was time for Sunday to face the world again. The way she saw it, she couldn’t grieve forever, so she went on, ‘I thought if we went to watch the carnival, we might do a little shopping when it was over. I can’t remember when you last had a new dress and they’re so easy to buy off the peg now. The days of havin’ to be measured an’ go for all them fittin’s are well an’ truly over, an’ to my mind that’s no bad thing. So, what do you think? I could do wi’ a day out, to be honest. It feels like it’s all work at the minute an’ yer know the old sayin’ – all work an’ no play …’

  Sunday glanced at her friend’s face and sighed resignedly. Cissie had been her rock and she supposed it would be selfish to refuse her. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she answered quietly and, satisfied, Cissie nodded.

  ‘Well, we had a rare good time at the last one, didn’t we?’ she chuckled as she remembered, and hefted the wash basket to the side of the heavy wooden ironing board. ‘It’s hard to believe that it’s been five years already since the town had the first one. And all that money it raised for the hospital, eh? Why, it must have been just before Tom—’

  She stopped abruptly and colour burned her cheeks as she realised what she had been about to say – but if Sunday had noticed, she gave no sign, and carried on peeling the potatoes. Cissie meanwhile hastily reached up to remove the bare light bulb that dangled from the ceiling, and plugged the iron into it, thanking the lord for the electricity they now had. It seemed a world ago since she had been forced to do the ironing with flat irons. She could do it in half the time now.

  She had just started when Ben strode into the kitchen. As usual he was frowning. Cissie often found it hard to remember the fun-loving boy he had been before he had marched away to war. Like many young men who had been fortunate enough to come home, he had seen things on the battlefield that would haunt him forever. In addition to this, his face and one arm were badly scarred, a fact he had never really come to terms with. At that time, he had been convinced that no one would ever love him looking as he did, but then he had married Maggie. They had been blissfully happy, until she had died in childbirth just a few years after they were wed. The child, a baby boy, had died with her and he had never quite got over it. Now his father’s death seemed to have added to his depression. Cissie knew he had been expecting to inherit Treetops and that he felt resentful because he hadn’t, although she hadn’t said as much to Sunday, who still seemed to find it hard enough to just get through each day, so Cissie had no intention of adding to her worries. But she was determined to do something about that now. To her mind, Sunday had grieved for quite long enough and now it was time to try to bring her back into the real world.

  ‘I was just sayin’ that I thought it would be nice if we all took some time off to go to the carnival next Saturday,’ Cissie told Ben, as he helped himself to a cup of tea from the big brown teapot standing on the range. ‘Do you fancy comin’?’

  Ben snorted as he threw himself onto a chair. ‘And why would I want to do that? I’ve horses to look after and accounts to keep. Besides, Blaze is due to have her foal anytime. I need to be here.’

  ‘Hm!’ Cissie sniffed disapprovingly, but she didn’t push it. Ben could be as stubborn as a mule when he had a mind to be, and she knew she’d have been wasting her breath.

  That evening, after Kathy and Livvy had both got home from work and they were all sitting together at the kitchen table, Cissie raised the subject again.

  ‘Well, I’d love to go,’ Livvy said immediately.

  ‘Hm … I think I’d best stay here with Ben, just in case Blaze needs us,’ Kathy said.

  Cissie sighed.

  Livvy meanwhile was looking hopefully at her mother. Like Cissie, she felt that it was time for her to get out and about again. It had been hard for her and Kathy to lose their father too, but over the last few years their mother had been so locked in her own grief that sometimes the girls felt they had lost her as well. The only time she ever ventured out was to attend meetings at the town hall about the new housing that was being built in and around the town.

  ‘So, shall we go then, Mum?’ Livvy asked pointedly, and Sunday sighed, knowing when she was beaten.

  ‘I suppose so, if you really want to.’

  ‘I do!’ Livvy declared joyously.

  Cissie beamed with satisfaction.

  On Saturday, they set off for Nuneaton in George’s motor car, and were soon wandering amongst the throngs of people lining the streets, waiting for the carnival to start. Luckily it was a fine, sunny day and when the first float appeared everybody began to cheer. Once again, all money raised would go to the General Hospital, and for the next hour they stood cheering and throwing pennies into the fundraisers’ buckets, as the gay carnival floats passed by. Dotted in between them were marching bands, dancers, clowns and horses, and the air rang with the sound of laughter.

  The last of the floats was just passing them when Sunday noticed Livvy speaking to a very attractive young man. Her heart did a little flutter. Livvy had shown no interest in courting as yet – but perhaps things were about to change?

  Hurrying over to them, she introduced herself, ‘Hello, I’m Livvy’s mother.’

  He quickly removed his cap and gave her a disarming smile, showing a set of straight, white teeth. She noticed his hair was dark, with a tendency to curl, and he had lovely blue eyes.

  ‘How do you do, Mrs Branning?’ He gave a courteous little bow. ‘I’m David Deacon.’

  ‘Dr David Deacon,’ Livvy chipped in, with a grin. ‘He works at the hospital with Kathy.’

  ‘Only junior doctor.’ He laughed. ‘And is Kathy not here with you today?’

  When Sunday shook her head, she thought she detected a look of disappointment flash in his eyes. ‘Oh well, do give her my regards when you get home, and enjoy the rest of your day,’ he said politely, and, lifting his hat, he disappeared off into the crowds.

  ‘What a charming young man,’ Sunday commented, as she watched him go.

  ‘I reckon he’s sweet on our Kathy,’ Livvy told her, with a grin.

  ‘Really? Then I wonder why she has never mentioned him?’

  Livvy shrugged. ‘I don’t think she’s interested, which is a shame because he’s a really nice chap.’ Then putting David Deacon from her mind, she turned her attention back to the carnival procession.

  When the last of the gaily decorated floats had passed, they followed the crowds to Riversley Park where the town mayor would choose the winner. Then Livvy insisted on trying her hand at the coconut shy and some of the other stalls set up there. She even had a go on the carousel, laughing as the brightly painted horses rode up and down. Next it was the hall of mirrors, which had them all in fits of giggles, and then they were off to see the bearded lady. After that they treated themselves to toffee apples and candy flosses, before taking turns on the hoopla stall. When they had finished, Livvy insisted on going to see the strong man and having a go on the large swingboats, which made her feel slightly sick.

  ‘Phew, I reckon I might pop off an’ have a pint wi’ Sam Arnold at the Wheatsheaf in Abbey Street afore we set off fer home,’ George said eventually.

  He was worn out, and suddenly realising that the time was going on, Cissie nodded. ‘You do that, luv. Me an’ Sunday an’ Livv
y have got a bit o’ shoppin’ to do, so we’ll meet you by the Co-op in a couple of hours, eh?’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’ George straightened his cap and set off, whistling merrily. It wasn’t often that he got to have any time off and he intended to make the most of every minute.

  Meanwhile the women headed back to the town centre, where they spent a time wandering amongst the stalls in the market before heading for the dress shops.

  ‘Ooh, look at this one.’ Cissie held up a sky-blue dress. It had a dropped waist with a mid-calf skirt and padded shoulders, long sleeves and tiny pearl buttons all down the front. ‘This would suit you a treat wi’ your colourin’, Sunday. An’ it’s your size, an’ all. Why don’t you try it on?’

  Sunday looked at it doubtfully. It was very pretty, admittedly, and much more up to date than most of the clothes in her wardrobe, but she rarely left Treetops to go anywhere to wear it, as she pointed out to Cissie.

  ‘Rubbish!’ Cissie snorted. ‘You go to your council meetin’s an’ this would be just right for them.’

  And so, very reluctantly, Sunday took it into the fitting room, where the owner of the shop helped her put it on. Staring at herself in the mirror once it was on, she did have to admit it looked very nice. In fact, she realised in that moment how much she had let herself go. She’d taken little interest in her appearance since she had lost Tom, and tended to wear practical, dark colours – but the soft blue of the dress seemed to lift her spirits.

  ‘Are you sure it’s not too young a style for me?’ she asked Cissie worriedly, when she came out of the fitting room to show it to her. ‘I am sixty-five, you know. I don’t want to walk about looking like mutton dressed as lamb.’

  Livvy giggled. ‘Of course, it’s not too young for you,’ both she and Cissie assured her. ‘And actually, Mum, I think you look really good for your age, although you could do with doing something with your hair. That style is really out of fashion now.’

  ‘Really?’ Sunday’s hand rose to her hair which was pulled back into a severe bun at the back of her head. ‘In that case I’ll take the dress and we’ll make the hairdresser’s the next stop.’

  Luckily, they found a hair salon that was able to fit her in without an appointment, which was just as well because Sunday knew that if she had time to think about having her hair chopped off, she might well change her mind. Tom had always loved her hair long, but styles were changing.

  ‘So, what would you like?’ the young hairdresser asked as she brushed Sunday’s long hair and smiled at her in the mirror.

  Sunday gulped and Livvy piped up, ‘Let’s go for the Greta Garbo look. Shoulder length, then it won’t be too much of a shock all at once. Smooth on top, parted to one side and curly all around the bottom.’

  The young woman nodded, and Sunday closed her eyes as she felt the girl make the first cut. Her hair fell to the floor in long strands and it wasn’t until sometime later, when she was told to open her eyes, that Sunday dared to take a peek in the mirror.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she viewed the transformation, and when she turned her head from side to side, she hardly recognised herself and felt curiously light-headed.

  ‘It looks wonderful!’ Livvy clapped her hands with delight.

  ‘It certainly does,’ Cissie said approvingly. ‘It’s knocked years off yer. In fact, I might have mine done.’

  Sunday was quietly pleased, and after paying the hairdresser and leaving her a generous tip, she followed Cissie and Livvy from the salon.

  ‘Well, much as I don’t want to, I reckon we ought to be headin’ off to meet George else we’ll have no dinner tonight. If I can drag him out o’ the Wheatsheaf, that is,’ Cissie said glumly.

  They hurried along Stratford Street and turned left into Abbey Street, weaving their way through the stallholders who were busy packing up their wares. George was waiting for them outside the Co-op as promised and he whistled through his teeth when he saw Sunday.

  ‘You look a treat,’ he told her as he opened the car door for her, and for the first time in a very long while, Sunday really smiled. Perhaps it was time to start getting more involved with the family again. She could never bring her beloved Tom back but at least she still had them, and they were all very precious to her.

  Chapter Two

  A few days later Sunday entered the study to dust it only to find Ben sitting at the desk with the accounts book open in front of him.

  ‘Oh sorry,’ she apologised. ‘I thought you were over at the stables; I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ He snapped the book shut and took it to the safe. ‘I’d just finished anyway.’

  ‘Actually, I’ve been meaning to have a word with you,’ Sunday said, seizing the opportunity now that they had a few moments alone. ‘I’ve realised that I’ve been rather selfish leaving so much on your shoulders since your father died and I think it’s time I started pulling my weight a bit more.’

  When he raised his eyebrows, she hurried on. ‘I could at least take over doing the business accounts again. You and George have more than enough to do outside in the stables.’

  Much to her surprise he slammed the safe door shut and shook his head. ‘Are you not happy with the job I’ve been doing then?’

  ‘Of course I am,’ Sunday assured him hastily. ‘But …’

  ‘I like doing the accounts and with no disrespect intended I know far better than you what the stables are making. Blaze’s new foal is a little beauty. He’ll fetch a fine price when he’s a bit older, but then you wouldn’t really expect anything else with his pedigree.’ Storm, the horse that Tom had fallen from, was the foal’s father and had turned into an excellent stud. People from miles around brought their mares to be covered by him. It was ironic, when Sunday came to think of it. Following Tom’s fatal accident, George and Ben had been all for shooting the horse, but it had been Sunday who had pointed out that the accident hadn’t really been the animal’s fault. He had just been young and wild, and Tom should have known that he wasn’t tame enough to be saddle-trained. So, he had been allowed to live and was now earning them a large portion of their income.

  ‘The thing is, if you take over doing the accounts again, I shall have to tell you every time we have a customer,’ Ben pointed out. ‘It’s so much easier if I just do it myself, and all the bills have always been paid on time, haven’t they? I give Cissie the housekeeping money every Friday morning as regular as clockwork, so what’s the problem?’

  Feeling somewhat patronised, Sunday shook her head. She had truly felt it was time for her to become more involved in the business again but then she was also aware that Ben, as he had quite rightly pointed out, had done a good job of keeping things going and she didn’t want to offend him. ‘There isn’t a problem,’ she admitted. ‘I just thought … But anyway, if you’re quite sure you’re happy to continue as we are?’

  ‘I am,’ he said abruptly and, turning about, he stalked from the room.

  Sunday frowned. Well, I made a right mess of that, she thought glumly. When she and Tom had first received the letter, quite some time after their marriage, informing them that Ben was Tom’s illegitimate son from another relationship, it had caused a rift in their marriage for a while and Sunday had felt a little jealous of the child. But not for long. Whatever Tom had done was not Ben’s fault and by the time she tearfully waved him off to war, she had thought their relationship was back where it always had been, and for her part, she still loved him as much as she always had. But when he returned, traumatised by what he had seen and the scars he had sustained, she had felt a rift between them once again. He had grown even colder towards her since the death of his wife and father. And the discovery that Tom had left the house to her had only seemed to deepen the problem.

  She feared Ben had never really come to terms with the fact that he was the result of an affair his father had had before his marriage to Sunday, even though Tom had had Ben’s name changed to his and had proudly welcomed h
im into the family and openly recognised him as his son. Now she realised that if she forced Ben to let her take control of the business again, he would resent her even more. For the time being, she decided, it would be best to leave things as they were. With a sigh she got on with the dusting.

  That evening as they all sat at dinner, Kathy said casually, ‘David Deacon asked if he might come over on Sunday and take one of the horses out for a ride with me. His family in Yorkshire have horses and he misses riding so I didn’t think you’d mind?’

  ‘Isn’t that the nice young doctor I met on the day of the carnival?’ Sunday asked as her heart beat faster. He was such a pleasant young man and although Kathy was still very young it would be lovely to see her fall in love. Up to now she hadn’t seemed interested in much at all except her nursing career and spending what little spare time she had in the stables with Ben. ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ she ended quickly. ‘It will be nice to see him again.’

  Livvy rose from the table at that moment, saying, ‘Sorry but you’ll have to excuse me, I’m going roller skating with some of the girls from work this evening and I’m supposed to be meeting them in an hour. I shall be late if I don’t get my skates on … excuse the pun!’

  Sunday smiled as her daughter hurried away to get ready. Livvy had just started to spread her wings a little and go out with her friends, and although it worried Sunday slightly she was also keen to encourage her to be independent. In 1930 the Palace Cinema in the town had been turned into a skating rink and Livvy had been a regular there ever since. In fact, Sunday had heard she was now a very good skater. She wished Kathy had more of a social life too. After all, she was virtually grown up now and with Livvy just a few months younger Sunday supposed she should prepare herself for the fact they might each meet a nice young man soon.