A Cuckoo in Candle Lane Page 12

  ‘Yes, of course, though I don’t think you’ll be able to do much.’

  She stood behind him, closed her eyes, and offered up a silent prayer. Moving her hands slowly over his body, she was aware of being led to his lung area. The familiar feeling radiated from her palms and she prayed it was giving him some relief. ‘How’s that?’ she asked, after about fifteen minutes.

  He inhaled, a look of surprise crossing his wrinkled face. ‘Why, that’s wonderful, duck. It really has eased the pain and I can breathe a little easier.’

  Sally smiled sadly, knowing that all she had achieved was a temporary respite. ‘I’m glad it’s given you a little relief, Mr Cox, but I don’t know how long it will last. Me gran’s arthritis plays her up again unless I give her regular healing.’

  ‘Listen to me, gel, anything that makes my going a bit easier is enough for me. Can I come to see you again?’

  It wasn’t far to walk, but she knew what a huge effort it must have taken for him to get here. ‘I tell you what,’ she suggested. ‘How do you feel about me popping into your house on my way home from work, perhaps a couple of times a week?’

  ‘That’s very good of you. Just one thing though – don’t let on to me missus how bad I am. She doesn’t need to know yet.’

  On Friday evening the hall buzzed with the sound of voices as Sally stared at her reflection in the mirror, fingering her short hair that fell in wisps around her face.

  ‘I can’t believe it, Sally, it looks absolutely fantastic,’ Ann said, standing behind her. ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘I dunno, it feels strange. My head feels so light.’

  ‘You look sort of elfin-like and your eyes look even bigger. It’s a shame your hairstyle didn’t win the competition. Still, second place is great, isn’t it?’

  Sally nodded, still feeling unsure about the new style, asking as she twisted her head to look at the sides, ‘Will we be able to leave now?’

  Ann frowned. ‘Well, yes, but do you mind going home on your own? I said I’d stay behind to help with the clearing up.’

  ‘No, that’s all right. I’ll see you later.’

  It wasn’t far to walk, but at Candle Lane she pulled up short. Arthur was standing on the corner and there was no way to avoid him.

  ‘Hello, Sally, I like your hair,’ he said, smiling as she approached.

  ‘Thanks,’ she answered, her fingers tugging unconsciously at the wispy fringe as she edged past him. ‘See yer then.’

  He grasped her arm. ‘Hang about, don’t run away. Do you fancy coming to the pictures tomorrow?’

  As he gazed at her intently, his grey eyes darkening, Sally found herself shuddering. ‘I can’t, Arthur, I’m busy. Let go of my arm, please.’

  ‘Christ, what’s the matter? Why do you always look at me like a frightened rabbit? I’m only asking you to come to the pictures.’

  ‘Arthur, I’m sorry, I don’t want to go out with you. Anyway, you’ve already got a girlfriend. Haven’t I seen you with Jenny from across the road?’

  ‘Bloody hell, Sally, I just take her out occasionally, that’s all, it’s nothing serious. If that’s all that’s stopping you going out with me, I won’t see her any more.’

  ‘No, don’t do that,’ she said hastily. ‘I’m sorry, I just don’t want to go out with you … or anyone,’ she added.

  ‘Sod you then, you frigid cow,’ he spat, spinning round and stalking off in the opposite direction, his back stiff.

  She watched until he was out of sight, his words playing over in her mind. Frigid, he had called her frigid, yet she couldn’t help her body tensing with fear when he came near. It was something in his eyes that frightened her, a look she could remember from her childhood that always made her shrink in terror.

  ‘Blimey, Sally,’ her mum said when she went indoors, ‘you don’t half look different.’ She walked across the room, reaching out to touch her hair. ‘It’s so short, I’m not sure if I like it.’

  ‘I’m not sure either, Mum, but I can’t do much about it now, can I?’

  Arthur found himself walking around the block, kicking himself for losing his temper. He just couldn’t understand why Sally recoiled the way she did every time he came near her, almost as if she was terrified of him. Even as children she had avoided him, but it hadn’t mattered then, she was just his kid sister’s friend.

  When had he first noticed how gorgeous she was? He couldn’t remember. But one day he suddenly saw that she had changed from a gangly scruffy kid, into a beautiful teenager. Her new hairstyle looked great too, but he couldn’t forget the fear in her huge green eyes as she looked up at him. Yet all he had done was to ask her for a date.

  As he turned the corner, back into Candle Lane, he looked across at Jenny Jackson’s house. She was the complete antithesis to Sally. Hot, passionate, and always throwing herself at him. Yes, he had taken her out a few times, but it wasn’t serious and he’d drop her like a shot if Sally would go out with him.

  He wasn’t vain, but knew he wasn’t bad-looking – the amount of attention he got from girls had shown him that. So what was it about him that Sally found so distasteful? He had tried asking his sister, but as usual she hadn’t taken him seriously and had laughed, joking that Sally had better taste than to go out with him.

  Perhaps I should give it one more try, he thought as he reached his own front door, deciding that he might as well turn in. They had a big job on tomorrow needing two vans, and were starting work early in the morning. He’d been working for his dad for over eighteen months now and enjoyed the work. It had been hard at first, as some of the furniture weighed a ton, but now his muscles had hardened and it had become a lot easier.

  ‘Hello, son,’ his mum said as he walked into the kitchen. ‘You’re a bit earlier than usual.’

  ‘We’re starting at six in the morning so I thought I’d better turn in.’

  ‘Yes, your dad’s already gone up. By the way, how’s that new lad getting on, the one that you took on last week?’

  ‘He’s doing all right, but I’ll be glad when he passes his driving test. I could do with a break when we’re on a long haul.’ He yawned widely. ‘I’m going up, good night, Mum,’ he called as he left the room.

  Lying in bed, he touched the wall beside him, knowing that Sally was just on the other side. Yet this barrier was nothing compared to the one she had erected around herself. One more time, he thought – I’ll ask her out one more time, but if she says no, I’ll never ask her again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The August sale was in full swing and Arding & Hobbs was packed with customers eager to find a bargain.

  In the record department, Sally had a thin veil of perspiration on her forehead as she ran back and forth behind the counter, serving one customer after another. Her blouse felt as though it was sticking to her back, but Miss French looked as cool and immaculate as ever.

  Stifling a yawn she glanced up at the clock, pleased to see that it was time for her break. ‘Can I go to lunch please, Miss French?’

  ‘Yes, but make sure that you are back on time. We are very busy, as you can see.’

  ‘Yes, miss,’ she answered, hurrying from behind the counter before another customer could waylay her, and heading for the staff staircase.

  ‘Hello,’ a voice said softly as she entered the canteen and joined the queue. ‘You’re from the record department, aren’t you?’

  ‘Er, yeah,’ she whispered shyly, finding herself gazing up into a pair of soft brown eyes.

  ‘I thought so. I work upstairs from you in the electrical department. My name’s John, by the way.’

  ‘I’m Sally.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  She raised her eyebrows. How did he know her name?

  ‘I asked someone,’ he said, as though reading her mind. ‘I’ve been hoping to get a chance to talk to you. I … I wondered if I could take you out one night?’

  Sally saw that his face had turned slightly pink and found herself drawn to
him. She loved the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled and his dark brown hair that flopped onto his forehead. But a date? She hunched her shoulders defensively, still gazing up at him.

  ‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘I don’t bite, honest.’

  It was impossible not to smile; he looked like a little boy asking for a sweet, and she wondered how old he was. The queue moved forward and she found herself at the front. ‘Just a cup of tea, please.’

  After paying at the till she made her way to an empty table, not able to resist a glance behind. He had paid for his food, and yes, his eyes were scanning the room as though looking for her. She sat down quickly, her head lowered.

  ‘Do you mind if I share your table?’

  Looking up she saw him smiling appealingly. ‘No, that’s all right,’ she answered, her voice trembling.

  He put his tray on the table, taking the seat opposite her. ‘Aren’t you eating anything?’ he asked, digging into a meat pie.

  ‘I’ve got a packed lunch.’ Feeling her face flushing, she pulled a sandwich out of her bag, taking a nervous bite and finding that her throat felt dry, making it difficult to swallow.

  ‘I love your new hairstyle,’ he said softly. ‘It suits you.’

  She touched her fringe. ‘I think it’s a bit short.’

  ‘No, it’s perfect, but you haven’t answered my question yet. Will you come out with me?’

  Sally picked up her cup of tea, quickly swallowing a mouthful and choked as the hot liquid hit her throat. Mortified, she felt tea dribbling onto her chin. ‘I’m sorry,’ she gasped, endeavouring to wipe it away with the heel of her hand.

  ‘Here,’ he said, holding out a handkerchief. ‘It’s awful when that happens, isn’t it? Please, don’t be embarrassed.’

  It was his kindness, and the soft, concerned expression on his face that decided her. She wiped her chin and handed back the handkerchief, then, with a deep intake of breath, she agreed to go out with him.

  ‘Tonight?’ he asked eagerly.

  She looked down at the table, endeavouring to hide her panic. How could she go out with him that evening – she didn’t have anything to wear. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t, not tonight.’

  ‘Tomorrow then,’ he urged.

  ‘I usually ’ave a lot to do on a Sunday,’ she prevaricated, already regretting her impulsive decision.

  ‘Couldn’t you spare some time in the afternoon? We could just go for a walk or something.’

  As she hesitated he tipped his head to one side. ‘Please,’ he said with an irresistible lopsided grin.

  His smile was gorgeous, and her heart leaped. ‘Yes, all right,’ she found herself saying, smiling back at him.

  It was only when she left the canteen to go back to her department that panic set in. What had she done? Yes, he seemed different from other boys, softer somehow, but what about when they were alone? What if he tried to touch her? Stop it, she admonished herself. They were only going for a walk – what could happen? No, it would be all right, and all she had to do now was to ask Ann if she would lend her something to wear.

  Sally walked slowly home after work; her feet were aching, and she felt exhausted. She was anxious to tell Ann about her date with John, but knew she had to call in to see Mr Cox first. She had been giving him regular healing, but sadly the relief was short-lived.

  ‘Hello, how is he?’ she asked as Nelly Cox opened the door.

  ‘Oh, I’m so glad you’re here,’ the woman said, drawing Sally inside. ‘He’s having a really bad day and can’t even get out of bed. Do you mind going upstairs to see him?’ She looked closely at Sally. ‘You look tired, ducks. Would you like a cup of tea or something?’

  ‘Yes please, I’d love one,’ Sally answered, mounting the stairs.

  Creeping into the bedroom and crossing to the side of the bed, she focused on George’s aura, gulping in distress at what she could see.

  ‘Here you are, Sally,’ Nelly said as she came bustling in carrying a cup of tea with a few biscuits balanced in the saucer.

  ‘Has he seen the doctor?’ Sally whispered.

  Nelly shook her head. ‘He saw him yesterday, but he won’t let me call him today. He thinks the doctor will ’ave him admitted into hospital.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s the best place for him,’ Sally said, lifting the cup and taking a sip of the hot sweet tea.

  ‘No, it ain’t.’ The hoarse voice came from the bed and they turned, startled, as the sick man struggled to sit up. ‘I want to die in me own house … and in me own bed … so I ain’t seeing the bloody doctor again,’ he gasped, sinking back with exhaustion.

  ‘Oh, George,’ Nelly cried. ‘Don’t talk like that. You ain’t gonna die.’ She turned her strained face towards Sally. ‘Tell him, love, tell him that he’s gonna be all right,’ she begged.

  Before she could answer he raised his hand, touching his wife’s arm. ‘Nelly, can I ’ave a drink?’ he croaked, his voice weak.

  ‘Of course you can, I’ll be back in a tick,’ she told him, scurrying from the room.

  ‘Sally, come here. I want to tell you something,’ he whispered urgently.

  Edging to the side of the bed, she took hold of his hot dry hand. ‘What is it, Mr Cox?’

  ‘I keep smelling lavender. My old mum loved it and used to place dried sprigs of it amongst her clothes. It feels like she’s here, Sally, and that she’s come to fetch me.’

  Sally gulped as a large lump formed in her throat, but she couldn’t hold back the tears, and they streamed unchecked down her face.

  ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart. I ain’t sorry to go.’ His voice weakened and she had to lean over the bed to hear him as he asked, ‘Will you keep an eye on my Nelly for me? We never had any kids and she’ll be all on her own.’

  ‘Of course I will, don’t worry.’

  ‘Thanks, ducks,’ he managed to pant, fighting for breath.

  ‘Just rest now,’ she said, holding her hands over his body and praying for healing. With relief she saw his body relaxing, his breathing a little easier. Standing back she cuffed angrily at the tears dripping from her chin, feeling utterly helpless and useless. He was beyond her limited healing powers.

  When Nelly came back into the room, she took one look at Sally’s wet face and the tumbler in her hand shook, water splashing onto the lino.

  ‘It’s all right, he’s asleep,’ Sally quickly assured her. ‘Look, I’ll just pop home and tell me mum where I am. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Leave the door on the latch. I’ll stay with him,’ Nelly told her.

  Back in number five, Sally hurried breathlessly into the kitchen and said, ‘Can you put me dinner in the oven, Mum? I’ll ’ave it later.’

  ‘You’ve been crying, love – what’s the matter?’

  ‘Mr Cox is really bad, Mum, and I’m gonna sit with him for a while.’

  ‘But you needn’t do that, Sal. Tell Nelly to get the doctor in,’ Ruth said indignantly.

  ‘He won’t ’ave it, Mum. Now I’ve got to go, I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Hold on a minute, what time will—’

  Sally didn’t give her mum time to finish speaking; she was already on her way out again.

  She drew up a chair beside Nelly, and they sat holding hands, listening to George’s laboured breathing. The tortured rise and fall of his chest became hypnotic, and Sally lost all track of time.

  Gradually, sitting in the dim room, her head began to droop with exhaustion. It was as she blinked her eyes furiously in an effort to stay awake, that she became aware of a light hovering at the foot of the bed. She lifted her nose, sniffing the air. It was unmistakable. The overpowering scent of lavender.

  There was a gasp and she turned to see Mr Cox struggling to sit up, his arms outstretched as though reaching out to someone. He opened his mouth, whispering just one faint word, before slowly sinking back, the breath leaving his body in a strange rattling sound.

  ‘No, no!’ Nelly wailed, throwing herself acros
s the bed and sobbing hysterically. ‘George, oh George, don’t leave me, darlin’! Come back, please come back!’

  Sally stared at his grey face, her body rigid with shock. It’s like looking at an empty shell, she thought, as though the essence of the man she knew had gone. Then it hit her, like a blow to the stomach. He was dead.

  Nelly turned anguished eyes towards her. ‘Help me! Please, help me! He can’t be dead – he can’t!’ she screamed.

  Feeling overwhelmed, Sally sat rigidly, her mind frozen before panic set in. I need help, she thought, and desperate to get away, she made a sudden bolt for the door. ‘I’m gonna get me mum, I won’t be long!’ she yelled, running from the room.

  ‘Mum, Mum, come quick,’ she shrieked, running into the kitchen.

  ‘Wha … what’s the matter,’ Ruth stammered, already half-asleep in a chair.

  ‘Quick, Mum, it’s Mr Cox, he’s dead and Nelly needs you.’

  ‘What’s the time?’ Ruth asked, running her hands over her eyes and glancing at the clock. ‘Sally, where ’ave you been? It’s nearly eleven o’clock.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, will you listen to me, Mum. Nelly needs you.’ She shouted now, emphasising each word. ‘Her husband is dead!’

  At last it seemed to penetrate her mother’s foggy mind and she jumped to her feet, eyes darting wildly around the room. ‘All right, I’m coming. Now, where’s me shoes?’

  She felt her temper rising. ‘Mum, just come in your slippers.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Sadie asked, appearing in the doorway, her dressing-gown slung around her shoulders and blue hairnet askew. ‘What’s all this racket?’

  ‘Mr Cox is dead, Gran,’ she answered, bursting into a fresh flood of tears.

  ‘Ruth, get yourself along there, I’ll see to Sally,’ the old lady ordered.

  ‘Yeah, all right, all right, I’m going ain’t I,’ her daughter said irritably as she hurried out.

  Sally sank onto the sofa. ‘Oh Gran, it was horrible. I’ve never seen anyone die before. I didn’t know what to do and I ran away.’ She buried her face in her hands. ‘I feel so ashamed. How could I do that to Nelly?’