Now, still breathing in the sweet, alluring scent of a newborn baby, Selina thought she finally knew the answer …
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sheila put her arm around Mrs Treedy, who was weeping silently. ‘Now, don’t take on so … Your Jack will be coming home to Porthcurno soon enough. You mark my words. There ain’t no call to fret over the boy. He just wants to see the world. And once he’s seen it, he’ll come back again.’
Outside the shop, a heavy pack on his back and sturdy boots on his feet, Jack Treedy stood in bright spring sunshine, surrounded by all his younger brothers and sisters, who were skipping about him in the dusty street and chattering. There was barely a cloud in the sky, and the young man looked excited to be heading off into the wide blue yonder.
Sheila couldn’t blame him for wanting to broaden his horizons. Life in Britain was improving. But not quickly enough for Jack, who was leaving his family behind, possibly forever, now he had saved up enough for his passage to Australia.
As a child, she’d secretly craved a life of adventure herself, exploring far-flung lands, the exotic places she’d seen on the silver screen. Not that she regretted a moment of her life,or her lovely Betsy and Violet, and all their children and grandchildren now. But she did sometimes wonder if there was still time left for a little adventuring …
‘How are you doing these days, love?’ Sheila asked the widow quietly. ‘Pardon me for asking, but I know the fund paid out at last.’
Mrs Treedy wiped away her tears. ‘Yes, bless you. That money was a lifesaver. I couldn’t have coped without it.’ She sighed, watching her eldest son kick his brother’s football along the street, their siblings cheering. ‘I only wish Jack would change his mind.’
Maggie, who’d been listening, came out from behind the counter to hug the distraught widow. ‘There, there, love … You’ll have the other kids to comfort you.’
They hurried outside as the bus pulled up further along the village street, the driver watching the commotion curiously.
Sheila shook Jack’s hand. ‘Good luck to you, lad. Don’t forget to write to your mum, eh?’ She pressed a small envelope into his hand. ‘Here’s a few bob from me, for your travels.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Newton,’ Jack told her earnestly. ‘I’m grateful, and not just for this. You offered me a job in your shop, even after I was such a twerp, stealing that pork pie.’ He swallowed, adding, ‘You made me see I didn’t have to fall into bad ways, that I could do something different with my life … And I plan to.’
‘Bravo.’ Tears in her own eyes, Sheila reached for her hanky. ‘Goodbye then, lad.’
‘Goodbye.’ He turned to hug his brothers and sisters, telling them exuberantly, ‘Goodbye, goodbye … Yes, I love you all too. Look after Mum and each other for me, won’t you?’
The bus driver sounded his horn impatiently.
Pale and suffering, Mrs Treedy walked with her son to the bus, hugged him tightly and watched him climb aboard. All the children ran after the old mud-flecked vehicle as it trundled out of the village again, whooping and shouting, ‘Goodbye!’ with Jack waving at them through the back window until the bus was out of sight.
‘I’ll never see him again,’ Mrs Treedy moaned, lifting her apron to hide her face, which was streaming with tears. Her eldest daughter hugged her silently, and then the kids shuffled back home together, surrounding their mum in a protective pack.
Back in the shop, Maggie began tidying the magazine rack. ‘Folk are saying it’s going to be a glorious summer to make up for all that snow,’ she mused, then added innocently, ‘Where’s Bernie these days? Didn’t he used to take you for a drive when the weather was fine?’
Sheila, pricing up tinned goods, held on to her temper with difficulty. ‘Maggie, just come straight out with whatever you want to know.’
Her sister turned, a knitting mag in hand. ‘All right, I will. Bernie was in and out of the shop most of last year. I thought wedding bells were in the air for sure. But the old boy’s not been around much since Christmas, and you’ve barely mentioned him in weeks.’ Maggie peered at her. ‘Have you and Bernie called it a day?’
Sheila counted to three in her head before replying, ‘No.’
‘Then why on earth—’
‘He asked me to marry him, all right?’ she snapped, exasperated. ‘And I said no. Or rather, that I needed to think about it more. So this is me thinking.’
Maggie’s mouth fell open. ‘Heproposed? You never told me.’
‘I don’t have to tell you everything, Maggie,’ Sheila said loftily, returning to pricing up the tins. ‘You’re my sister, not my keeper. Anyway, it ain’t worth shouting about until I make my mind up.’
‘And have you?’
‘Of course I haven’t.’ Sheila shook her head. ‘Bernie’s a lovely man. But he’s a bit old-fashioned in his ways. I’m worried he’ll try to persuade me to give up the shop once his ring’s on my finger. And half of me thinks he might succeed …’
Maggie looked thoughtful. ‘But why would you want to keep running this place once you’re comfy in that posh house of his?’
‘You think I done the wrong thing,’ Sheila demanded, ‘telling him I weren’t ready to get married again?’
‘That depends, doesn’t it?’
