Reluctantly Home(37)

Evelyn had ignored the obvious slur and chipped back with her objections to the plan. ‘But that would mean lying every day to everyone. I happen to think that it’s important to be honest at all times. And anyway, I would probably get into a terrible pickle trying to remember what I was supposed to say. I’d be bound to trip myself up, and that would be worse than just telling the truth from the start.’

Joan had harrumphed down the telephone line.

‘In any event, I don’t suppose anyone will be interested,’ Evelyn continued disingenuously, ‘but if they are, I will just tell them that I’m having a baby on my own and I’m back at home to get some support from my loving family.’

She could feel the frost radiating from her sister even though she was a hundred miles away. It was crystal clear that Joan was only taking Evelyn in out of a sense of duty, but Evelyn hoped that if she made herself useful and was good company then perhaps she could win her sister round. She was prepared to try, at least, which was more than could be said for Joan currently. Maybe when the baby arrived, her sister would soften a little. It would be difficult to stay so angry with her nephew or niece smiling and cooing and kicking their little legs in the air, or whatever it was babies did. And there wasn’t much either of them could do about the inevitable gossip around the town. They were just going to have to ride that storm out.

‘All set?’

Evelyn turned and saw Ted behind her, a cardboard box in his arms.

She nodded a little forlornly. ‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘If we must.’

‘Don’t be like that,’ Ted said, putting down the box and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. ‘It’s only a flat. Bricks and mortar, that’s all. It’s the memories that are the important part.’ He picked the box back up and headed towards the stairs. ‘Come on. If we set off now, then we’ll miss the worst of the traffic. It’s a nice little run out to Suffolk and I’m looking forward to getting a bit of sea air in my lungs, get rid of some of this city smog.’

God bless Ted. He had borrowed a van from somewhere and had offered to drive her and her belongings up to the house. If he hadn’t, then she would probably have had to take out a loan to pay a removal firm, money that she had no prospect of repaying any time soon. The arrangement was that she would contribute to his fuel costs and keep him entertained on the way. Well, she could manage that, at least.

Evelyn chattered as they left London and headed up the A12, regaling him with stories of her childhood that made him laugh, roll his eyes and look horrified in equal measure.

‘Your family sound like a right bunch of horrors,’ he said.

‘It was always me in bother,’ laughed Evelyn. ‘I was the one that got caught and had to be punished. I think Joan used to snitch on me, but I could never prove it. I knew, though. She always looked so pleased with herself when I got into trouble.’

‘I’m not sure I’m going to like Joan much,’ he said.

As they drew close to the town, however, Evelyn’s chatter slowed until the only words she uttered were the directions to the house. She’d hadn’t been quite sure how she’d feel when they got there – whether there would be nerves, disappointment or even anger, but as the van pulled up in front of the house she had grown up in, the house from which she had fled, Evelyn was surprised to discover that her overwhelming emotional response was sadness. She was delighted to be having this baby, of course she was, and if she hadn’t, what would have been the point of all this disruption? But now that she stood on the doorstep of her former home, she knew being here marked the end of the life she had worked so hard to achieve.

‘Do you want me to come in?’ asked Ted. ‘I can just turn round and head back home if you’d rather.’

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Evelyn replied. ‘You have kindly driven me all the way here. The least we can do is offer you some lunch. Come on. We’ll unpack later.’

Evelyn still had a front door key – it was her house too, after all – so she slipped it into the lock and turned. The door swung open and immediately the aroma of the place hit her. It didn’t seem to have changed at all. Furniture polish, bleach and coal tar soap – all clean smells, but ones she associated not with a welcoming home but with strict order and regime. The hallway was shadowy because all the doors leading off it were firmly closed to keep the transference of dust to a minimum, just as they had been in her parents’ day. As a child, Evelyn had longed to fling them all open and wander around willy-nilly, sitting on plumped cushions and leaving finger marks on polished wood. She never had, of course, being too worried about the consequences of such impetuous actions. She had once dropped a candlestick on the hearth and broken a tile. She had been forced to stay in her room for a month, coming out only for school and meals. But things would be different for her and her child. She wasn’t going to let Joan treat the baby as she herself had been treated.

The place was very quiet, with no signs of life anywhere. No radio played, no dog barked; there was no sound at all. Even the air felt silent.

‘She does know you’re arriving today?’ asked Ted. ‘I thought she’d be here to welcome you home.’

‘Oh, she’s here all right,’ replied Evelyn darkly. ‘She misses nothing.’

Evelyn stepped into the hall and walked down the gloomy corridor to the kitchen. Her sister Joan was sitting in a chair by the range, a newspaper folded open at the crossword in her hand. She didn’t look up when Evelyn walked in.