A Girl Called Hope Read online

  ‘What?’ The knife clattered from Marjorie’s hand and she called for Freddy and Ralph to ‘Come here at once!’

  ‘What is it, Mum? Have you cut yourself?’ Ralph was concerned.

  ‘Hope is talking as though you’re leaving in a couple of weeks. Surely she’s wrong? You can’t be intending to move out before Christmas?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Hope said, looking to Ralph for support. ‘We want to spend Christmas in our new home. Surely you can understand that?’

  ‘But not if it upsets you so much,’ Ralph said soothingly. ‘We can get the furniture in, but we needn’t actually live there until after Christmas.’

  ‘After New Year,’ Marjorie contradicted loudly.

  ‘But, Ralph,’ Hope gasped. ‘You promised. We decided that—’

  ‘We thought it would be nice, yes, but Christmas is such a special family occasion and we’ll have plenty of other Christmases, won’t we?’

  ‘Christmas isn’t far away,’ she pleaded. ‘I want us to get settled.’

  ‘And Christmas isn’t a time for being selfish,’ Marjorie snapped.

  Hope stared at her and the most defiance she dared show was to say, ‘You’re right, it isn’t the time to be selfish, is it?’

  Hope watched as Marjorie picked up the fallen knife, washed it fussily and went on preparing the meal, which Hope knew she’d be unable to eat. Hunger had been driven from her at the prospect of having to stay here with her parents-in-law. After Christmas there would be New Year, then there would be other reasons for them to stay. Ralph’s lack of support was no longer something for which she could make excuses. If only she were brave enough to insist.

  Freddy disappeared for an hour or two but came back in as they were about to start eating. Marjorie thumped his plate in front of him and demanded to know where he’d been.

  ‘Oh, talking to Colin and Stella. They want some help taking some furniture back from their country cottage,’ he said with a smile. ‘Bringing it home for the winter and painting the chairs and all that.’

  ‘Country cottage. What a fool the woman is,’ Marjorie retorted.

  ‘It’s a joke, Marjorie, a bit of fun.’

  The country cottage belonging to Stella and Colin Jones was nothing more than their allotment shed. Someone had sarcastically called it that, and, instead of being offended, Stella and Colin had laughed and the name had stuck. Stella had made curtains for the windows, and had painted it a cheerful green with the windows and doors edged with yellow. Inside was painted white, regularly given a fresh coat to keep spiders and other unwanted visitors at bay. There was a piece of carpet on the floor for their dog, Scamp, a drinking bowl with his name on and a selection of toys for his entertainment.

  Stella went there whenever her duties as the local post-mistress allowed, and she kept it spotlessly clean. A series of boxes and tins held the makings of tea. An old biscuit barrel usually held a few cakes, and people often included the place in their walks in the hope of being invited in for a sit down and a gossip. Colin worked on the railway and his shift work enabled him to work on the garden while she entertained.

  The name might make most people smile, but Marjorie didn’t find it amusing.

  *

  When she and Ralph went to bed that night, Hope tried to persuade him to move into the house as soon as it was theirs. ‘We can come here for Christmas, leave Davy’s presents under the tree so your parents can enjoy watching him unwrap them, stay overnight if your mother would like us to, but we’d have our own home waiting for us. Isn’t that what you want, Ralph?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course it’s what I want, darling. More than anything. It’s just that it isn’t the right time.’

  ‘For us, d’you mean, or your mother?’

  ‘Both I suppose. Mum mostly. I’m longing for us to live in Badgers Brook; it’s a perfect place for Davy and us. But I can’t leave the house where I’ve lived all my life in an easy frame of mind knowing Mum is still grieving. And you can see how Dad is. No company for Mum there, is there? Him sitting in that room locked into his private unhappiness or walking the streets on his own? She’ll be so lonely if we move now. This big house will echo around her reminding her of her losses, she and Dad rattling through its empty rooms like a couple of dried peas in a bucket. She’ll hate it so much.’

  ‘And you think after Christmas will be the right time?’

  She felt him shrug. ‘I don’t know. After New Year, maybe. I just believe I will know when the time is right.’

  ‘And what about Davy and me? Isn’t now the right time for us?’

  ‘Let’s go to sleep now, shall we? I have a heavy day tomorrow, dealing with the accounts of that bad-tempered old man in the furniture shop.’

  She chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. ‘Don’t be too impatient with him, he’s given us a good discount on the furniture we’ve ordered.’ She wanted to talk about the items they had chosen.

  ‘Thanks to Mum’s persuasion,’ he reminded her.

  Good old Mum, she thought sarcastically, and wondered why everything they discussed ended with a reference to Marjorie. Although, perhaps there was one subject that might break the pattern. ‘How soon d’you think we should start thinking about a second baby?’ she asked softly. But Ralph’s slow breathing told her he was asleep. With a sigh she slipped out of bed, pulled on bed socks and wrapped herself in Ralph’s thick dressing gown. She sat at the window for a long time, staring out into the November darkness.

  *

  In the bedroom at the front of the house, Marjorie also sat staring out at the almost invisible garden. She was engulfed in a rare moment of guilt. She was being unreasonable, and selfish – as Hope had boldly reminded her that evening. But how could she face an empty house? She’d heard that Freddy opened up in the convivial atmosphere of the public house, surrounded by friends, but when he was at home he was more like a ghost than an actual presence. She was as good as alone in a house meant to be home to a lively family. Life had been so unfair.

  Three sons she’d borne and she had expected the house to be continually filled with them and their friends, then their families. Now there was only a seriously introspective Freddy, her least exciting son, Ralph, boring little Hope and a child they insisted on calling Davy. The child’s name was David Frederick William Murton, the third Christian name, William, a concession to her demand they used the hyphenated name she had used since her marriage. Hope might be quiet and dull but she managed to persuade Ralph to do what she wanted, she thought with rising anger.

  She turned away from the window and sat listening to the silence of the house. Once Ralph had taken his family away, the empty rooms would echo with hollow-sounding memories. She didn’t believe in ghosts, yet sometimes she imagined she heard laughter, or footsteps running feather-light down the stairs as the boys set off for a late-night escapade, a midnight picnic, meeting their friends for a dare.

  She smiled as she remembered how they had prepared, believing she hadn’t noticed the surreptitious gathering of food throughout the day, hiding their cache ready for the house to fall quiet before slipping out, keeping to the dark shadows, to meet their friends in the old brick-built shed at the back of the house. There they would eat and giggle and play scary games before creeping back, while she sat and listened for their safe return.

  She smiled as she remembered them tiptoeing up the stairs trying not to make a sound, holding back their laughter with great difficulty. Such a happy time when they had been young and she had shared their fun, every sunshine-filled day.

  The house creaked and became a part of her imaginings.

  Then the whimsical sounds became real, the footsteps slipping softly down the stairs were no longer her imagination. She went to the door and looked over the banisters. A torch led the way as Hope, in Ralph’s long dark dressing gown, went across the hall into the kitchen. Silently she followed.

  ‘I’m making a hot drink, would you like one?’ Hope asked as she entered the room behind her
.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Marjorie said unnecessarily.

  ‘Same reason as me I expect. The move. It’s a difficult time for all of us. A huge change. I can understand how you’ll miss Ralph and the baby. But I also know you want Ralph to move into a home of his own, to build a future for himself and his family, just like you and Father-in-law did here.’

  ‘There’s no need for you to go. There’s plenty of room here.’

  ‘We need a place of our own, to put down roots, build our own family home. I can’t wait to live in Badgers Brook. Did you know there’s an ancient sett not far from the house? It’s how it got its name, according to Geoff Tanner from the hardware store.’

  ‘I simply don’t know how you’ll manage,’ she said harshly. ‘Ralph is used to certain standards, he likes his meals on time and he won’t tolerate David misbehaving while he’s eating. You won’t have me to help. Although I’ll do what I can.’

  I bet you will, Hope thought, but she said, ‘I’ll manage.’ In an attempt to pacify the unhappy woman, she went on, ‘Mainly thanks to you. I’ve learned so much living here with you and Father-in-law; you’ve helped me so much, and I’ll always be able to call on you if I have a problem, won’t I?’

  ‘We all have to learn, I suppose, although it all came naturally to me. I’ll have to learn to cope without my sons, won’t I?’

  ‘You still have Ralph and Davy, and me – if you’ll accept that I’m a part of your family too.’

  Marjorie gave a noncommittal grunt, stirring the hot water into the cocoa and condensed milk. They sat without a critical word being spoken for almost ten minutes, sipping their hot drinks, and Hope began think she and her mother-in-law might finally reach an understanding. Then Marjorie put the cup and saucer on the draining board and said sharply, ‘I do wish you’d use his proper name and call the child David.’

  Hope picked up the cups and saucers and began to rinse them under the tap. When she turned around, Marjorie had gone back to bed.

  *

  The following day, Hope went to the hardware shop to see Geoff. ‘I don’t want to pester you, but can you give us a date yet?’ she asked.

  ‘The previous tenants have paid rent for another couple of weeks but I’ll have a word. And meanwhile I have no objection to you moving some furniture in, and starting on curtains, and things.’ He looked at a calendar hanging behind the heavy wooden counter and said, ‘What about the first of December, would that be all right?’

  ‘Perfect, and thank you, Mr Tanner.’

  ‘Geoff. Everyone calls me Geoff.’

  Hope went to tell Stella at the post office then called at the office to tell Ralph, who, surprisingly, raised no further objections. She then hurried home to tell Marjorie, her heart in her mouth, prepared for trouble.

  ‘Isn’t it a wonderful surprise?’ she finished, after telling Marjorie of Geoff’s suggestion.

  ‘Surprise? It’s a shock that you can be so unfeeling. Richard dead, Phillip disappeared and now you’re taking Ralph from me. Aren’t you ashamed, Hope Morris?’

  ‘Taking him? Mother-in-law, I haven’t been Hope Morris for three years,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I’m Hope Murton, Ralph’s wife, and we’re not disappearing, just moving into a home of our own. Can’t you be pleased for us?’

  ‘You wouldn’t even take his proper name. He’s Ralph Williamson-Murton in case you’ve forgotten.’

  ‘He prefers just Murton,’ she said softly, ‘and so do I.’

  A couple of hours later, Ralph assured his mother that Hope had relented, and they would stay until after the New Year.

  *

  In the post office as everywhere, most of the conversations were about the wedding of Princess Elizabeth and the handsome Prince Philip.

  ‘Best you and Colin come to the Ship and Compass this evening.’ Betty Connors said. ‘Everyone’s invited. We’ve dressed the bar and there’ll be a bit of a party in celebration of the royal wedding.’

  Freddy was absent all day and when Marjorie asked where he’d been she was surprised to be told that, with Colin Jones, Geoff Tanner and others, he had been decorating the pub for the party. ‘You’re invited,’ he said, watching her face for the expected response.

  ‘Thank you, but I’ve no urge to involve myself with Betty Connors and her rowdy customers.’

  ‘If you change you mind, I’ll be leaving about half seven,’ he said, knowing that a change of mind was unlikely.

  There was a knock at the door and Marjorie opened it to a young schoolboy.

  ‘Is Mr Murton in?’

  ‘Mr Williamson-Murton,’ she corrected.

  ‘We needs him, see, down at the pub. The electricals is broke.’

  ‘I’ll give him your message, now hurry along home.’

  ‘A peculiar child asks you to go to the pu— to the Ship and Compass to mend something, Freddy,’ she called.

  ‘It’s all right, Marjorie, I heard.’ He shrugged himself into his overcoat and went to the door.

  ‘Please remind him your name is Williamson-Murton, Freddy.’

  *

  Phillip Williamson-Murton liked his hyphenated name. In his desire to become a sought-after artist he thought it gave added prestige when he signed his work. In spite of his name, his career to date hadn’t shown much progress. After trying landscapes, seascapes and some portraits that had brought more ridicule than praise, he had tried abstract representation. This had also failed, as he lacked the understanding and skill to give people what they wanted. His failure was the main reason he hadn’t been back to see his parents.

  The war had resulted in a restlessness and inability to concentrate. He gave up on every course he started, always thinking he knew better than the tutor. He wanted immediate success, recognition today not next year. He looked for short cuts, and impatience led to failure.

  Blaming people for their lack of imagination impressed some of the women who supported him from time to time, but didn’t solve the problem. He refused to face the face that he lacked both talent and tenacity.

  He looked at the most recent letter from his mother but didn’t open it. He had nothing to say to her and he didn’t think she would have anything worthwhile to say to him. Gone were the days when she could bully him into studying, making him believe he would be famous if he would only work harder. He tore it across and threw the pieces into the fire.

  He looked at the second letter that had arrived that day. It was from his friend Matthew Charles, another man who had failed to settle after demobilization. Matthew was a rep and they would meet up when he was in Phillip’s area.

  That night, Phillip’s girlfriend Connie was at the cinema with a friend, and he and Matthew met at a local public house. As always their conversation turned to their present situation, comparing it to a kind of prison.

  ‘Connie is good,’ Phillip admitted, as drink began to make them maudlin. ‘She’s supportive and loving, but not someone with whom I dream of spending the rest of my life. She’ll be broken hearted, but I have to move on.’

  ‘I can’t leave Sally,’ Matthew said. ‘She and the children depend on me.’

  ‘Depend on you? That’s rich.’ Phillip laughed, too loudly. ‘You’re never home!‘

  ‘Sally’s involved with her amateur dramatics and takes the girls with her. When I do go home they’re often out at rehearsals and readings and castings and all that stuff. I’ve tried going along, offering support, but it’s so damned boring.’

  ‘Thank goodness I’m not encumbered with children.’

  ‘The girls aren’t mine. As you know, Sally brought them from her first marriage – not that I don’t love them. I do, very much. Beautiful they are. And they’re the main reason why I can’t ever leave. They’ve done nothing to deserve another upheaval. Losing their father was enough for them to cope with, don’t you think?’

  ‘I think you, Matthew Charles, are a brick.’

  *

  In Cwm Derw the weather turned cold and frost g
littered on the hedges and sparkled like scattered jewels on the pavement. After a few days of being more or less confined to the house with little to occupy her, Hope was restless. Knowing the house that was to be theirs was empty, waiting for them, made her want to do something towards making it their home, but there was nothing to do except wait. The furniture was ordered and the curtains she had been given had all been neatly altered to fit.

  Sewing was something she enjoyed and, although she had no specific training, she had a natural ability that even Marjorie had to admire. She gathered the remnants of the living-room curtains she’d been given and, while Davy played at her feet, found a piece large enough to make a cushion cover. By coiling smaller strips of material and using them to form a pattern at each corner, and adding embroidery, she made something beautiful and unique.

  Ralph came home for lunch as his office was not far away, then, although the weather was not enticing she decided to take Davy for a walk. He’d be cosy enough in his pushchair to enjoy a little fresh air. Her steps took her to Badgers Brook. Almost without realizing it she found herself walking down the lane past the bus stop and looking for that first glimpse of the house.

  The day was gloomy but it was still a surprise to see a light glowing in the kitchen, which faced the front path. She didn’t know what to do, but curiosity was strong, as well as a growing sense of ownership, so she stopped at the gate and looked towards the house. A hand waved, then the door opened and Geoff Tanner called to her.

  Easing the heavy pram through the gate and up the path she saw that he had been painting. He pointed towards the kitchen and to her delight she saw that the bright cheerful yellow paint she had ordered was now adding a lightness to the once dowdy room.

  ‘It’s as though the sun has come out!’ she said, smiling her thanks. ‘Thank you so much. Ralph will love it.’

  ‘It was a good choice, I think. Even though it’s a bit daring,’ Geoff said. ‘The house faces south across the garden and this is the darkest side, but your choice of sunny yellow certainly helps.’