Unspoken: A story of secrets, love and revenge T. Belshaw (good books to read for beginners txt) 📖

I nodded. ‘All right. I’ll go to see him,’ I said.

Chapter 77

September 1938

Miriam came home on Monday evening. I expected her to be full of the joys of spring, but she was rather subdued. She made a fuss of Martha, and then spotted my swollen cheek. When I told her that I had walked into a door, she shook her head, looked around, in case the villain was hiding in the kitchen, and whispered, ‘did Frank do that?’ Miriam knew exactly what walking into a door, really meant. She’d walked into so many of them during her married life.

I admitted that he had hit me, but I didn’t tell her the whole story, not wanting to spoil her moment. I was sure that Michael had whisked her away to propose. After she had taken her suitcase upstairs, I asked her how her weekend had gone. It couldn’t have been worse than mine, that was for sure.

‘We slept in separate rooms,’ she said, sadly.

‘Well, that’s not much of a dirty weekend, Miriam. Did he sneak into your room after lights out, or did you sneak into his?’

‘Neither, there was nothing but sleep after lights out. Nobody sneaked anywhere.’

‘What was the point in the exercise? Amy and I thought it was a prelude to your nuptials.’

‘He doesn’t want to get married again.’ Miriam looked crestfallen. ‘He just wants to be best friends. Go out together, do stuff, dance, that sort of thing. He wants company, not another wife.’

‘You wanted more, didn’t you?’ I felt so sorry for her, she had put all her hopes and dreams into this weekend, and it had fallen flatter than a boneless skate.

‘He said he wants to honour the memory of his dear wife.’

‘Well, that’s a laudable sentiment, but why lead you on like that? It’s just not fair.’ I gave her a long hug. ‘Did you enjoy the weekend apart from that?’ I asked, hoping she got something out of the trip.

‘It was nice. We had lovely meals, a few drinks, a couple of walks along the sea front. There was a dance band on at the hotel. It was all so romantic, except that it wasn’t.’

I sighed with her. ‘So, what happens now?’

‘Nothing. I told him I’d think about continuing our relationship as companions, but I’m not going to. I want more out of life than that. I thought about it all the way home.’ Miriam picked up Martha and kissed her on the nose. Martha stared back at her, refusing to ‘goo-goo’ as punishment for leaving her behind with me while she went off gallivanting.

‘Have you told him that?’ I asked.

‘No, I’ll tell him in the week, when he rings to invite me to the Saturday tea dance.’ She sat down at the table and cradled Martha. ‘There are plenty more fish in the sea, aren’t there, little one?’

I thought about her ex-husband, Frank, the policemen, and the unobtainable, Godfrey. Maybe settling for companionship was the way to go. It would certainly be less painful.

On Tuesday morning, after a bank holiday nagging from Amy, I rang Wilson, Kendall and Beanney to book an appointment with Mr Wilson, when he returned. Miss Johnston was her usual bitchy self but she did have some very good news for me, even though she didn’t realise it.

‘Mr Wilson will be back in his office on Thursday,’ she said, primly. ‘Could you tell me what the matter is regarding? I thought our business was concluded.’

‘It’s a personal matter, I just need a little legal advice,’ I replied, only just stopping myself from asking what the hell it was to do with her. And what was this ‘our’ nonsense, anyone would think she had personally sorted out my tax form, instead of just filing it.

‘Mr Wilson will be back in his office on Thursday at nine o’clock sharp.’

‘Does he have any appointments that morning?’

‘Not as yet, but he is always in demand, I’m sure—’

‘Book me in for nine,’ I ordered her. ‘Alice Mollison, that’s M…’

‘I know how your name is spelt,’ she said in a surly manner.

‘And I know how your name is spelt, Miss Johnston. I am the paying client; you are the secretary. Please remember that in future. Goodbye for now. I’ll see you on Thursday.’

I arrived at the solicitor’s office ten minutes early, wearing the same dress I had worn for Godfrey the week before. I ordered Benny to park the lorry a little way down the road so that I didn’t give the scathing Miss Johnston, any more ammunition. As I entered the waiting room, she looked down her nose at me as though I had turned up wearing my shitty, work overalls. I walked to her desk, flicked back the curls from my shoulders, and announced that I had arrived. I gave her my wriggle walk across the carpet, sat down in a chair facing her, and crossed my legs demurely. I had seen many an actress do that in the films, and I was always impressed by the way they did it. I hoped Miss Johnston was impressed with my effort.

Godfrey arrived five minutes later, and annoyed Miss Johnston even more, by speaking to me before greeting her. She screwed up her nose and glared.

‘Alice, what a pleasant surprise. Whatever are you doing here?’ He smiled that wonderful smile, then noticed the bruise on my cheek. The swelling had gone down, and I had done my best to cover the mark with rouge, but it hadn’t escaped his attention. He was a lawyer after all, he was paid to notice things.

‘You’re back early,’ I said, as though I was surprised.

‘My client decided to plead guilty on the first morning of the trial. He’s in jail now. Attempting to defraud the government is never a good idea.’

He waved a hasty good morning to his secretary, and held open the door of his office, to allow me to enter first. Once inside, he closed the door, and offered me a seat.

‘I don’t want