Enduring Passions Page 17

  His mother started crying.

  Tom, feeling awful, wrapped his arms around her. ‘Don’t mind what he says, Mum. I know you’ll like Fay – she’s a girl in a million.’

  ‘With a million,’ cackled his father in between spasms of coughing and getting his breath back. ‘When the allure has worn off, it won’t last.’

  Tom spoke only to his mother, knowing that his father was a lost cause. ‘We’re made for each other, Mum – you’ll see.’

  His gran didn’t help. ‘Love match or not, I don’t know what she’ll make of this place.’ She waved her hand around.

  His father had the last word. ‘She’ll be used to it – must have visited the estate workers cottages at Christmas to give out the master’s largess.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Simpson brought the car around to the front of the house. She’d asked him to use the Lagonda not the great big Bentley.

  As she sat in the back and watched the countryside go by, she thought of what the day would bring, of what lay ahead.

  Firstly of course, she was going to meet his parents. How would they take to her? That made her nervous, as if she wasn’t tense enough already.

  Then there was this awful, authoritarian summons by her parents. How had Tom taken that?

  Her tummy felt as if something was adrift inside. She’d hardly eaten at breakfast and the atmosphere could have been cut with a knife.

  Father had followed her to the door, looking at this watch. ‘We’re not ogres, Fay. He’s invited to luncheon.’

  No doubt they would watch his table manners keenly.

  They reached the outskirts of Cheltenham. Simpson, who’d looked at the address, had said that the best way to go was via the Air Balloon public house and then down Leckhampton Hill, past the Devil’s Chimney and the house where there had been a famous murder several years earlier.

  ‘It’s around here somewhere, miss.’

  They’d entered a long tree-lined road. Passing the entrance to Leckhampton Station she suddenly noticed the street names to her right were similar. ‘Down one of these, Simpson, please.’

  He turned the Lagonda. The area was no longer made up of large Edwardian houses, but small ones of red brick.

  ‘There, miss, just coming up to it.’

  They turned into a road where there were terraces on both sides. Each house had a front garden only a couple of feet wide separating it from the pavement.

  ‘There it is.’

  They drew to a halt before number 12.

  ‘Don’t get out – please.’

  ‘Very good, miss.’

  Fay opened the door herself and stepped down. Nervously she smoothed her coat and opened the gate. She had only taken one step before the door opened and Tom stood there. She wanted to run into his arms, but they both felt restrained. Neither spoke for a moment. Her heart sank, he looked so glum.

  ‘I’m sorry about this, Tom.’

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t be, it had to happen. By the way, I’ve got something to tell you – but later. First come and meet my mother and father.’

  She made a face. ‘Oh God, Tom – what do they think about me?’

  He just smiled and led her down the linoleum covered passage into the living-room. There before her was a man she instantly realized was Tom’s father because of the same blue eyes and once dark hair that was now streaked with grey. The woman beside him still retained something of the looks that had captivated his father but years of hard work had produced lines in her face and her hair was listless and dull.

  Fay held out her hand. ‘Mrs Roxham, how do you do.’

  His mother was overcome with shyness, even though the girl her son said he wanted to marry was really beautiful. Fay’s wide smile and open, honest face made his mother like her instantly.

  She took the hand and only half suppressed a little curtsy which ended up as a tiny bob.

  ‘Pleased to meet you.’

  Fay turned to find Mrs Roxham’s husband was staring at her with a piercing look that warned her this was where the trouble was going to come from. Mentally she registered the fact that her father also looked like being the main obstacle on her side.

  He took a second to survey her before he finally spoke, ‘So, this is the girl who has cast such a spell over our son, eh?’

  Fay kept smiling. ‘And he over me, don’t forget, Mr Roxham.’

  His father moved nearer and delivered a barbed compliment. ‘I can see that you have a lively wit, Miss Rossiter, as well as good looks.’

  Fay chuckled. ‘Thank you for the compliment, but I’m not sure about the lively wit – or the good looks.’

  An older woman, still dressed in clothes fashionable in the twenties came forward. ‘I’m his gran, miss, also pleased to meet you.’

  Fay shook her hand, reminded in a way of her own, now dead grandmother, with her long hair piled into a bun on the back of her head.

  His father said, ‘It’s a rum do, our lad and you – you must know that.’

  Nervously, Tom decided to intervene before she could reply. ‘Well Fay, that’s the family – except for the dog.’

  But she wasn’t to be distracted. Her eyes flashed in that way he had become accustomed to when she rose to a challenge.

  ‘Rum do or not, Mr Roxham, Tom and I are getting married; isn’t that so Tom?’

  He looked at his father, and said it with a quiet determination, ‘Yes we are, Dad – she’s going to be my wife – your daughter-in-law.’

  His mother broke the awkward lull. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee, my dear?’

  Relieved, Fay beamed. ‘I’d love one, Mrs Roxham.’

  His mother grinned sheepishly. ‘I’ve had the kettle on and off all morning waiting for you. It won’t take a second.’

  His gran pulled a chair out from under the table. ‘Sit yourself down, lass.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Fay settled in the chair as Tom whispered in her ear, ‘It’s Camp coffee – you won’t like it.’

  She smiled up at him and patted the hand that he was resting on her shoulder. ‘Oh yes I will.’

  Mr Roxham noticed the little intimacy. Although she seemed a pleasant enough girl, and he had to give it to Tom, a real good looker, her clipped, educated accent riled him.

  ‘Have you got a chauffeur out there?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, Mr Simpson. Why?’

  His father made for the door. ‘I’ll go and see if he wants something.’ He winked knowingly at her. ‘Got to look after the workers.’

  Tom shot him a black look as he passed. Gran was helping with the coffee, so he whispered, ‘You’re marvellous – thanks for coming in. You could have stayed outside, just picked me up.’

  She was indignant. ‘I could not, Tom Roxham. If you make an honest woman of me I’ll be Mrs Roxham – don’t forget – this will be my family as well.’

  He couldn’t help it. He leaned down and lightly kissed her on her forehead. ‘I love you.’

  His mother, just bringing steaming cups on a tray through the doorway, caught him, and then looked at Fay as she nuzzled her head against his arms. She paused for a second, before coming further.

  ‘There we are.’

  She set the cups down, Gran following with sugar and a jug of milk.

  Fay took the sugar and popped two lumps in and added milk. Stirring her cup she said, ‘All this has happened very suddenly. It must have come as a great shock to you both. Are you happy, Mrs Roxham – we honestly don’t want you upset, do we Tom?’

  His mother smiled. ‘My dear, now that I’ve met you I can see why Tom wants to marry you – he’s a very lucky man if you’ll have him.’

  His father came back in, pointedly saying, ‘Jack would like a glass of water, if that’s all right, Miss Fay.’

  Tom had never seen anything like it before. His mother suddenly shot up, went into the kitchen, came back with a glass of water which she thrust, slopping, into his hand.

  ‘If you are go
ing to behave like a silly old grouch, why don’t you jolly well sit out there with Jack – I’m talking to my daughter-in-law to be.’

  In the amazed silence, Fay said, ‘You can invite Jack in if you like – I don’t mind, but I suspect he’ll be a bit uncomfortable.’

  His father looked at the two of them in amazement, then left without another word.

  Fay turned to Tom’s mother. ‘I do hope I haven’t upset Mr Roxham.’

  ‘Don’t worry about him, my dear, now tell me about your parents.’

  ‘Ah.’ She shot an uneasy glance at Tom. ‘Well, they’re waiting to meet Tom. We’re having lunch together.’

  ‘Are we?’ He raised an eyebrow.

  She nodded. ‘We are.’ She didn’t add, ‘I’m afraid’ but she guessed he knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

  Gran suddenly nudged him and said, ‘Tom, what about the’ – she nodded – ‘the you know.’

  He knew what she was on about. He had meant it for a private moment, but he owed it to his Gran that he had the ring in the first place.

  He looked at the three women in his life. ‘Very well.’

  From his pocket he took out the little box. Immediately Fay’s eyes lit up in startled surprise as she realized what it was.

  She looked from him to the smiling Roxham women and back again.

  He flipped open the lid. The ring with its perfect little stone glinted in the morning sunshine.

  ‘Oh, Tom, it’s beautiful.’

  He took it out and held it up into the light.

  ‘Where did you get it?’

  He nodded at Gran. ‘My grandmother gave it to me – it was her mother’s.’

  Fay turned to her. ‘Are you sure? It’s so beautiful – it must hold a lot of memories for you.’

  His gran put a hand on Fay’s arm. ‘My mother would be thrilled to know it was being worn by Tom’s wife.’

  Fay nodded with gratitude. ‘I will do so with pride, and think of her for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Come along, Tom – don’t keep Fay waiting.’ His mother had found her voice.

  He started to reach for her hand, but his father, who had come back in, said sarcastically, ‘What, not going down on your knees, lad? Where she comes from the women expect that sort of thing.’

  Tom hesitated but it was Fay who said, ‘I won’t have you doing any such thing, Tom Roxham.’

  With that she pushed her chair back and stood up before him, flashing a glance at his father before looking Tom in the eye. ‘Well?’

  He held the ring. ‘Will you marry me Fay?’

  ‘You know I will.’

  With that he slipped it on to her finger.

  She held up her hand, turning and looking at it for a few seconds, then fell into his arms. ‘It’s wonderful.’

  Their tender hug widened to include the women in a joyful welter of cheek kissing, congratulations and thank yous.

  His father sniffed. ‘All very touching, but the hard reality is that you are not used to our way of life, nor is our young lad here, yours. He’s going to stick out like a sore thumb among your lot and you’re far too posh for the likes of us.’

  His mother exploded with horror. ‘Father, what a terrible thing to say.’

  But her husband wasn’t going to be put off. ‘Your troubles are only just beginning, lass.’

  Fay rounded on him, eyes blazing. ‘And let me tell you, Mr Roxham, that I don’t really care a damn. You are as bad as my father. A plague on both your houses.’

  He shrugged. ‘You may not care now, but what about when you are living in a house like this and with no car?’ He waved his arms around. ‘And you’ve got to do your own washing and ironing. It won’t be such fun then, will it?’

  Fay squared up to him. ‘You don’t think I can do anything, do you? Well let me tell you, at boarding-school we had to take care of ourselves and we learned domestic science and needlework. I’ve always looked after my horses until very recently, getting up at six o’clock to muck out.’

  His father shook his head again. ‘You’re going to have to live on Tom’s wage. I bet it’s a lot less than your allowance.’

  ‘My allowance!’ She nearly spat the words out. ‘You really do have me down as a poor little rich girl, don’t you?’

  She put her head on one side, hands on hips. ‘You’re right I won’t be having my allowance when I marry, we will just have to make do. Though I intend to work when I can.’

  Tom blinked. ‘As an accompanist?’

  She shot him a challenging look. ‘Yes.’

  Unthinking, his mother, desperately trying to steer away from the confrontation said, ‘That’s interesting. Do you go with people to things?’

  Humiliated, Tom groaned, ‘Oh Mum, Fay plays the piano while people sing – you know.’

  Mortified, his mother mumbled, ‘Of course. Sorry.’

  Fay put her hand reassuringly on her arm. ‘Don’t be.’ Fay chuckled. ‘It sounds like that though, doesn’t it?’

  Fay turned back to his father. ‘Well then, Mr Roxham, what’s next?’

  His father, sorry for his wife, who was not stupid and had blundered in her desperation to stop him, tried to contain himself. ‘What about babies?’

  Fay’s right eyebrow went up. ‘What about them?’

  He shuffled his feet. ‘Think you’re up to looking after them on your own – no nannies – all those nappies and bottles?’

  Fay grinned. The devil in her knew she was going to shock him, but she was quite pleased to, in truth.

  ‘Well, first the nappies – I’ll get my father-in-law to help with all that manure – he seems to be good at it. And as for the bottles, I shall be using my breasts.’

  Tom went bright red.

  His mother and grandmother nearly fell off their chairs, hooting with laughter. His father looked shocked, eyes wide, then a slow grin suffused his face. ‘I don’t know how your parents are taking it, gal, but you are one formidable young lady.’

  With that he held out his hand. ‘Good luck to you both.’

  No hug, no kiss on the cheek, but Tom knew that – for his father – that was warmth indeed.

  They stayed for another half an hour, chatting about nothing, though Tom’s father did ask about her father. He ended up shaking his head in incredulity, and muttering, ‘My old man would never have believed it – in fact, I didn’t either this morning, but now I’ve met you, Fay, and can see what a single-minded young lady you are, I don’t think our boy stood a chance. He was a goner as soon as you decided he was the one for you.’

  All the women groaned, but Tom was serious. ‘That’s all right by me.’

  His father finished with, ‘You’ll need to keep a tight hand on her lad. She’ll walk all over you otherwise.’

  But it was said without the rancour of the start of the meeting.

  Fay smiled up at Tom. ‘Oh, he has his moments. He threatened to put me over his knee once!’

  ‘Tom!’ His mother sounded shocked.

  Tom’s face turned crimson yet again as he managed, ‘That wasn’t meant in earnest, Fay. I’d never lay a finger on you.’

  She giggled. ‘I know that silly. But it was rather exciting.’

  When they finally left, they all followed them out into the street. The car was surrounded by youngsters, with Simpson keeping a wary eye on them. A couple of neighbours watched from their doorways across the street and a little group of women near the corner shop could be seen whispering to each other as they got into the car.

  Simpson jumped behind the wheel and started the engine. They lowered the windows and blew kisses, as he eased in the clutch and they moved slowly away.

  All three were still standing at the gate waving when they turned the corner.

  As they drove away in the back of the Lagonda, Tom said, ‘You were wonderful, Fay.’

  She lolled against him, looking at her ring. ‘I think your parents are lovely, especially your Mum. And your father was growing on me – he’s a
n interesting man – been through a lot.’

  Her face clouded at the memory of the coughing fit as they were leaving. ‘His chest is pretty bad, isn’t it?’

  Gloomily he nodded. ‘Getting worse over the last few months.’

  They sat, shoulders touching but not talking, conscious of Simpson’s presence, but after five minutes she drew in her breath and said, ‘Now we’ve got to face my people. Look, Tom, it may be hard to believe when you meet them today because they’ve had a hell of a shock, but they’re good people really.’

  ‘Of course they are – you’re their daughter.’

  She smiled her thanks, but then looked serious again. ‘Daddy’s very worried about you – thinks you’re after my money.’

  When he made to protest she stopped him. ‘I know – but they don’t know you, don’t forget. I’ve had a wonderful childhood, I love them dearly. Be patient – please.’

  Tom took her hand, gave it a squeeze. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it will turn out all right.’

  Fay smiled weakly – then suddenly her face lit up. ‘Oh – you said you wanted to tell me something?’

  He hadn’t forgotten – how could he? – he’d just been waiting for the right moment.

  They were going up Leckhampton Hill. He glanced at Simpson in the mirror. ‘Can you stop by the view point over there?’

  Simpson looked at Fay for her approval. She nodded.

  The Lagonda drew into the edge of the road at a wide spot. He pulled her towards his door, helped her get to her feet, to stand on the grassy bank. The view was of the Severn Valley, with Cheltenham to the right and Gloucester to the left with the little hill of Churchdown straight ahead. Puzzled, she looked at the view.

  ‘What is it?’

  He stood beside her, smelling the freshness of her hair, arm around her shoulder as he pointed with the other.

  ‘See that bit of green there, to the right, with the hangars?’