Unspoken: A story of secrets, love and revenge by T. Belshaw (i want to read a book .TXT) 📕

turned it around to face the lane. Benny loaded the tools on the back and climbed into the passenger seat. Frank hung out of the front window and asked me something I didn’t catch over the noisy, irregular chugging of the old engine.

I shook my head. ‘I can’t hear you.’

‘I said, do we take the dividing hedge up too?’

I thought about it. The hedge had been planted a couple of years after we lost the land. It would leave the field open to the lane if we destroyed it. I hadn’t given up on my mother’s plan to build on the land either.

‘No, leave the hedge, Frank. I’ve got an idea for the new bit. Just clear it please.’

Frank drove off tooting the horn to scare away a couple of hens that were pecking at the dust in front of the truck. I had a chat with Barney about the middle acre, then I got on with my own job. Cleaning out the pigs.

In the lunch-break, Frank appeared at the back door as I was tucking into a thick sliced, ham and cheese sandwich that Miriam had made for me. It was cut into two halves and I knew I wouldn’t be able to manage it all. I wasn’t eating for two as the saying went. I could hardly manage enough for one, especially if I wanted to keep it down.

Frank stepped into the kitchen. ‘Could I have a private word?’

Miriam disappeared into the front room to collect my father’s uneaten lunch and make sure he was comfortable. I waved my hand towards an empty chair at the table and pushed the plate with the other half of the sandwich towards him. He picked it up, took a huge bite and nodded at me. ‘Thanks,’ he mumbled through the mouthful of thick bread.

I made us both a mug of tea and waited for him to finish his unexpected lunch.

‘I was thinking it was about time we took that weekend away,’ he said when he had finished eating. He pointed to my bulging stomach. ‘That belly will be empty in three months. We ought to get the sham wedding done well before then.’

‘I haven’t forgotten, Frank,’ I said, ‘it’s just that with the good weather we had over the winter months there’s been a lot to organise. I agree though, we had better do it soon. Where do you suggest we go?’

‘Sheppey isn’t that far and no one will know us there,’ he replied. ‘We can get the train from here to Sittingbourne, and the connecting train from there to Sheerness on the island. It will only take us a couple of hours altogether, and we can get back quickly if there’s an emergency.’

I had never been to the Isle of Sheppey, though my mother and father had often talked about taking me.

‘If it’s an island how does the train get onto it?’ I asked.

‘There’s a rail and car bridge,’ he said. ‘Big boats can go under it.’ Frank took a gulp from his mug of tea. ‘There are a couple of nice beaches. It will be a bit cold for a swim at this time of year but we can have a paddle at Sheerness, or Leysdown-on-Sea. There’s a bus every couple of hours from Sheerness.’

‘That sounds really nice, Frank,’ I replied. I hadn’t seen the sea in years although we were only a few miles away from it. Kent’s western fringe was all coastline from Essex in the north right down to Sussex.

‘There’s a place called Minster with a pebble beach, and the cliffs there are full of fossils that date right back to pre-history.’

I was impressed with Frank’s geographical knowledge.

‘How come you know so much about Sheppey?’ I asked.

‘I worked there, building the sea defences for a while. Sheerness has always been prone to flooding.’

‘Where will we stay?’ I was getting excited by the idea now.

‘There are a few hotels in Sheerness and some people offer lodging in their homes,’ Frank replied.

‘Let’s go for a hotel,’ I said quickly. ‘I don’t want to doss down in someone’s spare room. I’ll pay for it all.’

‘That’s settled then.’ Frank grinned at me. ‘We’ll set off early Saturday morning.’

Chapter 43

April 1938

At six-thirty on Saturday morning, I struggled into the passenger seat of our old truck with my weekend bag, which was actually a medium sized suitcase. Frank asked if we were going for a fortnight and wondered if he should get more clothes himself. I had hardly slept I was so excited.

There wasn’t enough room in the front for Frank, so he sat on a dirty, oil stained tarpaulin that lay in the back of the wagon. Barney was the designated driver. He didn’t ask us a single question about why we were going to the station at that hour of the morning, nor why I had asked him to get one of the lads to look after the piggery while I was gone.

Miriam had volunteered to stay overnight on Saturday. Her father had died a year before and she was alone in her cottage now that her children had all flown the coup. Her husband had left her years before, straight after the birth of their fifth child.

We got to the station in good time and stood around on the platform making small talk while we waited for the Sittingbourne train.

I bought us third class, return tickets to Sittingbourne. Once there we’d have to get another pair of return tickets to Sheerness. For some silly reason you couldn’t get a second-class ticket. It was either first or third, and even though I wasn’t exactly poverty-stricken, I refused to pay the highly inflated price for a better seat on a fifteen-minute journey. It was only twenty-five minutes for the second leg too.

The train huffed and puffed into the station with a blast of the hooter and a squealing of brakes. The strong breeze that swirled across the platform blew east to west, so we were spared the choking, thick