The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(41)
Was there another way of balancing the books? Had she done the sums right? Had Violet made any obvious mistakes and Rita been too tired to see them? Damn Charlie for causing his mother to go into such a tailspin. Rita also wondered if some customers were staying away on principle, knowing he was a deserter. She wouldn’t put it past them. She could understand all too well how they might feel. She hated cowardice, and resented being tarred with the same brush as her faithless husband. How different it would have been if he’d turned out to be the man she was hoping for: someone she and the children could have relied on, someone she could have shared her troubles with. At least they were safely out of it, happy and well, although achingly far away. When it came down to it she was on her own. Violet was kind and never said no to working late, but she didn’t really understand the business, for all her outgoing cheerfulness. Rita still had little idea of what went on in Ruby’s head and certainly wouldn’t dream of burdening her with the realities of the shop. And as for Winnie … well, she was just Winnie.
Rita sighed heavily as she checked the blackout blinds were properly fastened across the shop window. Dusk had fallen and she needed to turn on the lights, though she dreaded the extra expense. Maybe she could negotiate. Perhaps she could offer to pay an extra amount per week or per month – she’d have to find it somehow, but it was better than doing nothing. She had to keep the shop going, there were no two ways about it. Shivering, although it was a warm evening, she turned to go back to the living quarters.
There was a soft knock on the shop door, and she jumped. Fear shot through her that it was someone from the suppliers, come to demand their money in person. She hesitated, not wanting whoever it was to be heard in the street; she couldn’t have borne the shame of a public confrontation. Her name was in tatters already, and she couldn’t risk putting off even more customers.
‘Rita, Rita,’ called a male voice, ‘are you in there? Are you going to let me in?’
Rita gasped as she recognised the voice, barely able to believe that it was who she knew it to be. Her knees went treacherously weak. Then she made her way across the shop floor to the door, hastily opening it, fearful that the light would be visible and the ARP warden would notice. If it wasn’t Pop, it could mean even more trouble for her. But she couldn’t wait to see her caller.
For a moment neither of them spoke as they absorbed the sight of one another. It had been long, long months since they had last been together. Then she could hold back no longer.
‘Jack, Jack, you’ve made it home!’ Despite herself she flung her arms around his beloved broad shoulders, but then jumped back. ‘Oh no, how’s your injury? Have I hurt it?’
‘Don’t be daft.’ Jack hugged her tightly, knowing she was the most precious woman in the world. But he would go no further. While he was in no doubt he loved her with all his heart and soul, she was still a married woman, even if in name only.
‘Oh, Jack.’ Rita breathed deeply, inhaling the magical scent of him, the essence of a strong, good man. How she would have loved it if she could only let him take care of her, lift all the worries that had been besetting her since Charlie disappeared – and, in truth, long before that. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t fair on him. She was still tied to Charlie: devious, vindictive Charlie. She broke away, as she knew she must. Jack was her very good friend, the very best friend she could ever have, in fact, but he could be nothing more.
Jack stood back and regarded her. Even in the meagre light from the sallow overhead bulb she was radiantly beautiful. ‘You know what, Reet?’ he said softly. ‘You’re a proper sight for sore eyes and no mistake.’
‘Jack.’ Rita forced herself to break away, and held him at arm’s length, taking in the sight of his familiar features. ‘Oh Jack, I’m so glad to see you. When you wrote to say your leave had been delayed, I didn’t know what to think. I thought you’d been posted somewhere far away and I’d never see you again.’
‘Reet, don’t say that, you know I can’t tell you where I’ve been or where I’m going. That’s if I even know, which often I don’t. But I’ll always come back. You know that.’ Jack’s eyes glowed in the half-light as he drank in the sight of her.
‘I know. Well, I hope so.’ She still couldn’t quite take in that he was here in front of her; she was conscious that the clock was already ticking and the precious time they would have together would be short. ‘How long have you got this time?’
‘A couple more days.’ He drew a finger around the collar of his uniform jacket. ‘I stopped by your parents’ house before coming here to check you weren’t on shift. Your dad says I can have the cart tomorrow and that it’s your day off.’ His eyes were dancing. ‘Fancy a trip out to Freshfield?’
‘Oh yes, Jack. That would be marvellous.’ All thoughts of money worries fell away at the prospect of seeing her children again – and the thought that Jack was Michael’s unacknowledged father made it all the more special. ‘I’d like that better than anything.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Danny stared at the piece of paper in front of him. He couldn’t quite believe what had happened. He felt like pinching himself to check if he was dreaming or not, but the stern face of the naval officer who’d summoned him from the warehouse stared down at him. Danny didn’t think he was the sort of person who’d take kindly to any form of joke.