Looking Back Read online

  Looking Back

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Author Note

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Part Two

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Part Three

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Part Four

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Copyright

  I have to tell you about my shopping expedition in Woolworth’s (Cyprus).

  I was in the cafe, sipping my lime and lemon, minding my business, when all of a sudden this almighty, ear-splitting scream went up. I leapt out of my chair, eyes big and startled, to see a sight I swear I’ll never forget!

  This middle-aged woman of handsome face and ample proportions was hopping around the floor – skirt up round her nether regions, and dripping from all angles – with her husband in hot pursuit (‘hot’ being the operative word!).

  Apparently, he had spilled his tea all over her, and now we were all being treated to the unforgettable and terrifying sight of huge buttocks all ashiver, and frilly bloomers the like of which I have never seen!

  But as she said when all had calmed down, ‘I thought me arse were on fire!’

  All I can say is, ‘Go to it, Mavis. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, and to hell with the consequences!’

  Part One

  SUMMER 1948

  FACE FROM THE PAST

  Chapter One

  ‘Hello, Amy.’ Soaked to the skin, the stranger stood at the door. Beneath the trilby hat his face was oddly familiar to her.

  He smiled, but it was a nervous, guilty smile. For almost an hour after the fierce summer downpour he had paced the streets outside, afraid to come in… afraid not to.

  ‘It’s been a long time,’ he said, his steady gaze giving nothing away. ‘I’m not sure you’ll even remember me.’ But he remembered her. ‘Nineteen years,’ he murmured fondly, ‘and I’d still know you anywhere.’

  At thirty-nine years of age, Amy Tattersall was still a good-looking woman, he thought admiringly, with the same thick, chestnut-coloured hair and pretty brown eyes. There was a time when those eyes had looked at him with love, but now they showed only bewilderment.

  ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ She stared at him for what seemed an age, while long-ago pictures spiralled through her mind. She thought she knew him. There was something about his manner; the confident way he stood with his legs astride, his hands in his pockets and his head cocked cheekily to one side. Recognition was slow to unfold, but when it did she gasped in amazement. ‘Jack?’ Her voice trembled with emotion.

  Taking off his trilby, the man revealed a thick shock of dark hair. ‘I’ve still got my hair and all my own teeth. Not bad for a forty-year-old, eh?’ He laughed, a low, musical sound that rolled back the years. ‘What’s more, I can still cut a fine figure on the dance floor.’ He gave a little wink. ‘Do you remember how we used to smooch till midnight down at the Palais?’

  Still reeling in shock, Amy needed a moment for the truth to sink in. ‘Jack Mason!’ The ghost of a smile twitched at her mouth. ‘I can’t believe it!’

  At first she had doubted her own eyes, but there was no doubt now. It was the same Jack the Lad! With the same, wonderful smile that lit his eyes and had taken her heart all those years ago. But what was he doing here? Had he no shame?

  ‘Well, my beauty, are you going to ask me in, or what?’ He took a step forward but stopped when she drew the door to, barring his way. ‘Ah, don’t turn me away, Amy. Not now, when I’ve come to make amends.’

  He tugged at his clothes. ‘I’ve been outside for ages, plucking up the courage to knock on your door. Look! I’m soaked to the skin. Likely to get pneumonia if you don’t let me in.’

  A kind of longing washed over her, but fear gripped deeper. ‘Soaked to the skin or not, you look like you’ve done all right for yourself.’ Her glance swept past his disappointed face to the smart black car parked at the kerbside. ‘Yours, is it?’

  ‘Bought and paid for.’ A sneak of pride coloured his weathered features.

  ‘Hmh!’ His pride touched her deeply. ‘Like I said, you’ve done well.’

  He shrugged. ‘Well enough.’

  She noticed his expensive overcoat and his smart suit. Then she saw the confident gleam in his eye and her fears were heightened. ‘All right, Jack – out with it. What do you want with me?’

  ‘Trust me, Amy,’ he pleaded. ‘It’s not like it used to be.’ He gave a deep sigh, his gaze downcast for a brief second or two. ‘All right, I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve learned the hard way. And yes, you’re right,’ he gestured at the overcoat and at the car, ‘I’ve made a pot of money, but it’s not been easy. I’ve been through the mill, gal. I’ve changed… grown up. Everything I’ve got was earned through my own sweat and tears.’

  Amy felt herself weaken, but she persisted. ‘You still haven’t told me why you’re here.’

  ‘Can’t you guess?’ Reaching out, he touched her hand, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil he was causing in her emotions. ‘I’m here for you!’ His quiet gaze found hers. ‘I’m here to put things right between us, to make up for what I did all those years ago.’

  She wanted to believe him, but the old fear was strong. ‘Go away, Jack!’ she told him. ‘I don’t want any trouble.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m not here to cause trouble.’

  She laughed – a hard, accusing sound. ‘You were always trouble!’

  The slight tug on her skirt made Amy look down; it was her two-year-old son, Eddie. ‘All right,’ she told the infant. ‘Go to Lottie now, there’s a good lad. Mammy won’t be long.’

  Looking backwards past Eddie, she saw the other children sitting on the stairs. Beckoning to the oldest one, she asked her to take the little boy into the kitchen. ‘I’ll not be a minute,’ she promised.

  Returning her attention to Jack, she told him firmly, ‘You’d best go. I’ve things to do. Besides, Frank will be home any time now. If he finds you here, there’s no telling what might happen!’

  Jack’s expression hardened. ‘Still the same old Frank, is he? I’ll lay good money you don’t love him the way you once loved me.’ Guilt showed in his face. ‘Believe me, Amy, I deeply regret the past.’

  ‘So do I, but it’s all water under the bridge now.’ There was so much to regret, and he was only a part of it. Her voice fell to a whisper. ‘Go away, Jack. Leave me be. Please!’

  Jack’s gaze went down the passage, to the children. Huddled together, wide-eyed and scruffy, they looked pathetic. ‘How many are there?’ His quick eyes went to the huge mound beneath her pinafore. ‘Not counting that one?’

  ‘Four little ’uns and the two older girls. Six altogether.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Might as well be sixty, the way they drive me to despair.’

  Horrified, and unable to take his eyes off the army of children, he asked, ‘How do you manage?’

  ‘I get by.’ She laughed. ‘I don’t know how Frank will cope though, when this one arrives in a month’s time. He doesn’t know one from the other as it is!’ Her laughter faded. ‘He… likes a drink of an evening.’ Seeing Jack’s look of con
tempt, she was quick to add, ‘He’s no different from any other man in that way.’

  Having done his homework, Jack knew her situation and so chose to ignore the comment. Instead, he brought his attention back to the children. ‘Seven in all, eh?’ His eyebrows rose in amazement. ‘Good God, Amy! You’re a glutton for punishment, I’ll say that for you.’

  A rush of guilt caused her to turn and smile at the children’s upturned faces. ‘Oh, they’re not bad – as kids go.’

  He sensed her warming towards him. ‘I’m really soaked through, Amy. Summer showers are always the most penetrating, I reckon.’ Shivering noisily, he huddled deep into the collar of his coat. ‘A minute or two, that’s all I’m asking. A hot drink and a warm at your fireside, then I’ll be on my way.’ The truth was, he just needed to get his foot in the door.

  ‘Why should I?’ Forgiveness didn’t come easy.

  ‘Aw, come on, Amy. For old times’ sake.’ When he pleaded like that, she had never been able to refuse him anything. ‘Besides, I’ve a proposition to make.’ It was his sole purpose for being here. That, and a longing for her that had never gone away.

  Her interest was aroused. ‘What sort of proposition?’

  ‘Let me in and I’ll tell you.’ He winked. ‘I’m not leaving till I say what’s on my mind.’

  When she hesitated, he reminded her, ‘Do you remember how I used to sing when I’d had a pint or two… and how you used to try and shut me up? “By! You’ve a voice to wake the dead”, is what you used to say. Well, I can sing when I’m sober, too. If you shut that door on me, I’ll sing so loud the neighbours will all come running. Is that what you want?’

  Opening his mouth, he prepared to launch into song. Horrified, Amy grabbed him by the shirt collar. ‘You do, and I’ll throw a bucket of water over you!’

  ‘Let me in then?’

  Fearful the neighbours had seen him, Amy glanced nervously up and down Victoria Street. It was a long, cobbled street flanked by tiny terraced houses, filled with ordinary God-fearing folk who had nothing and wanted nothing.

  ‘Did anyone see you knock on my door?’ she asked edgily.

  ‘No, but if you don’t let me in they will – I’ll make sure of that.’

  ‘You always were a rascal!’ But the smile in her voice made him take heart.

  Amy’s busy eyes scoured the street. At the top end, Maggie Lett was arguing with the tiresome old man who lived next door to her. About halfway down, old Jimmy Tuppence was chalking his wonderful cartoons on the drying pavement, watched by a gang of snotty-nosed kids; and only two doors away, a young window-cleaner was scampering up his ladder and whistling to his heart’s content.

  Amy was relieved. None of them seemed to have noticed her visitor, thank goodness. ‘Come in then!’ Taking hold of his collar with both hands, she gave an almighty tug, jerking him into the passage and almost choking him in the process.

  ‘Bloody hell, Amy!’ Red in the face he quickly undid his shirt. ‘There’s no need to throttle me.’

  ‘There’s every need!’ Quietly smiling to herself, Amy led the way down the passage to the back parlour. ‘Five minutes,’ she warned. ‘I’ve got a fire on but, you know what it’s like… winter or summer, these houses are never warm.’ As he came into the parlour she repeated her warning. ‘Five minutes, and no more.’ Curious but wary, the children remained on the bottom stairs and peered through the banisters. ‘I’m hungry, Mam.’ Small and mischievous with vivid blue eyes, Milly was six going on ninety.

  ‘Take the children up to bed, Lottie.’ Amy’s anxious gaze went to the older girl. Despite her hazel eyes and long fair hair, Lottie’s beauty was only skin deep. At fifteen years of age, she already betrayed a sly and greedy nature, together with dangerous ambitions far beyond her station. Her more gentle, loving side was currently submerged by the moodiness of adolescence. ‘We’re not tired,’ she answered sulkily.

  ‘Tired or not, it’s half past eight and you’ve to help Bob Sutton in the fishmongers in the morning.’

  ‘I don’t want to go,’ Lottie whined. ‘It stinks to high heaven there!’

  ‘Stink or not, you’ll be there by seven-thirty, same as usual. We need every shilling we can muster and well you know it, my girl!’ Wagging a finger, Amy reminded her, ‘You’d best do as you’re told. Your dad will be in soon, and you know what he’s like if you’re not in bed by half past eight.’

  Lottie was persistent. ‘It’s Friday. He won’t be in till late.’ She regarded Jack craftily. ‘Anyway, he won’t like you having strangers in the house.’

  Grabbing the broom from behind the door, Amy swung round to send them all running up the stairs. ‘You little sod. I’ll tan yer arse, I will! Into bed the lot of you!’ She was in no mood for a confrontation with Lottie, especially not with Jack there to witness it. Even after what he did to her, she still had some pride left.

  From the top of the stairs, Lottie had the last word. ‘Why can Molly stay out late, that’s what I’d like to know!’ With that she scurried away, bundling the other four into their bedroom. ‘You lot had better not start fighting,’ she snarled, ‘or I’ll box your ears good and proper!’ Hot air and bully tactics, that was Lottie’s style.

  Downstairs, Jack grinned ruefully. ‘Looks to me like you’ve got your hands full,’ he told Amy.

  Sighing, she smiled back. ‘Not so’s you’d notice.’

  ‘Who’s Molly?’

  ‘She’s the eldest. Lottie gets a bit jealous of her. I keep telling her, “Molly’s eighteen and you’re only fifteen, that’s why she’s allowed to stay out later”.’

  ‘Out now, is she?’ He had to be certain they were on their own.

  ‘I’m not sure. She might be with Alfie, her boyfriend. He lives a few doors away. Or she could be with her friend Sandra – that’s Alfie’s twin sister, and a right little devil she is an’ all. If she didn’t have Molly to steady her, Lord only knows what sort of an end she might come to.’

  ‘Sensible lass, is she then, your Molly?’

  Amy smiled fondly. ‘They don’t come any better,’ she revealed.

  But what she didn’t reveal was that Molly was his daughter, too.

  When Jack Mason ran off all those years ago, she was already three months’ pregnant, but he never knew, and now he never would. Not if she had anything to do with it.

  Levelling her gaze on him, she thought he was still handsome.

  He hadn’t lost any of his arrogance, nor did he seem embarrassed to be here in her home. Jack Mason was a law unto himself; he cared for no one and gave nothing away. He was ambitious and ruthless, and up to all sorts of tricks, but somehow all of that only added to his charm.

  Suddenly feeling shy and ill at ease, she told him, ‘Say what you’ve come to say and get out.’ Bitterness flooded through her as she recalled what he had done, and how her whole life had been turned upside down because of it.

  ‘Do you really want me to go, Amy?’ His voice was soft, seductive. Same as always.

  For a long moment she kept her gaze averted. She could feel his eyes burning into her. In that moment, in spite of everything, her heart began to skip.

  ‘Amy…’ His voice hadn’t changed; richer maybe, and aching with a kind of loneliness. But it was the same voice, the same Jack, creating the very same mayhem inside her. ‘Look at me, lass.’ He wouldn’t give up. She knew that from old.

  Slowly, reluctantly, she lifted her eyes. ‘I still can’t believe you’re really here,’ she murmured, ‘just an arm’s reach away.’ She hardly dared to think about it.

  There was a long, intimate silence while each regarded the other, their thoughts not so different, their needs surprisingly alike.

  Nigh on twenty years ago, Jack had done what he had set out to do. He had made his money and learned from his many mistakes. Now, if only she would have him, he was back to claim her.

  ‘Not a day went by when I didn’t miss you,’ he said huskily, and took a step closer. ‘I’m here to take you
away with me.’ He glanced towards the door. ‘But not the kids,’ he told her awkwardly. ‘I’ve never been fond of kids – you know that.’

  She gave a wry little smile. How like him, she thought. ‘You were never one to take on too much responsibility.’ Her voice was hard.

  ‘They’ll never want for anything though,’ he promised. ‘I’ll see to that.’

  ‘What you’re asking is impossible.’

  ‘Nothing’s impossible.’ Now he had her hands in his, and she was visibly trembling. ‘You and me were meant for each other.’ His mouth brushed her hair. ‘Admit it, Amy,’ he urged. ‘You still want me. Say it, girl. Say it!’

  Drawing away, she glanced nervously at the door. ‘Lottie was right,’ she said. ‘If Frank comes home and finds you here, he’ll kill you.’

  ‘More likely I’d kill him, for what he’s brought you to.’ Thrusting his hands in his pockets, Jack gave her a curious look. ‘I was surprised to hear you’d married Frank Tattersall, and so soon after my departure.’ He shook his head disapprovingly. ‘I never thought he was your type. Bit of a waster, as I remember.’

  He stared round at the tiny parlour, with its tatty curtains and worn-out chairs. ‘From what I can see, he hasn’t given you much to be proud of, has he, eh? Except for an army of kids to age you before your time.’

  ‘And what about you!’ Anger marbled her words. ‘At least he never ran out on me!’

  ‘That’s why I’m here, I told you. To make amends.’

  ‘It’s too late, Jack.’ Over the years, Amy had tried to hate him, but it was hard to hate someone when all you really wanted was to be with them again.

  He took a step closer. ‘Don’t turn me away, lass. Not now.’

  Drawing herself up to her full height, she told him sternly, ‘You’d better go. Now! Before Frank gets home.’ There would be no explaining with Frank. He was possessive and nasty, especially when he’d had a drink or two.

  ‘Mam!’ Lottie’s voice rang out from the upper reaches. ‘Eddie wants the potty!’

  Sighing wearily, Amy rushed to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Fetch him down,’ she called out. ‘And be quick about it. Your dad’ll be home any minute!’