A Brighter Tomorrow by Maggie Ford (read with me .txt) 📕

note into a ball she tossed it away from her, seeing it land, a pale thing in the gutter. The last words he’d written were: ‘I love you, my darling, above all else. I’ll sort things out and come to you as soon as I can. Until then, I love you, love you, love you, my own darling.’

Resolutely Ellie turned her back on the note slowly unfurling among the other rubbish that lay there, and, picking up her bags, she walked away.

‘Ellie! Where’d you spring from?’

Mrs Sharp stood in the doorway, her gaunt figure in its grubby apron faintly silhouetted by the feeble kitchen gaslight that just about penetrated to the door. ‘What you doing ’ere this time of night?’

Ellie’s tears had dried as she struggled the distance to Bethnal Green Road and Gales Gardens. Now they threatened to overwhelm her again. She bit them back hastily. There would be a lot of explaining to do.

‘Whatever you got there?’ Mrs Sharp burst out, seeing the two heavy bags she had with her. ‘What’s ’appened? You orright, love?’

‘No I’m not.’ It was all she could say without bursting into tears.

Seeing her distress, Mrs Sharp was all concern. ‘You’d best come inside, luv, tell us what’s up.’

Sitting on a stool, a steaming mug of tea between the palms of her hands, Ellie felt she could hardly tell her that she had been left standing in the cold by the very man who had sworn love for her and to take her away with him.

Instead she hastily prevaricated. ‘I had to leave the place where I’ve been working. I couldn’t stand it any more.’

‘Were they cruel to yer then?’

‘No. It was just that I felt trapped. I left on a whim and now I can’t go back. I don’t really know where to go.’

‘At this time of night, I should think so. Whatever possessed yer ter go walkin’ out this time of night? And a Saturday too, wiv drunks an’ all sort of odd people about.’

‘Just things happening,’ Ellie said evasively. ‘I don’t want to go into it more than that.’

‘Oh, luv!’ sighed Mrs Sharp. Her refusal to go into more detail had obviously got the woman thinking all sorts of things, but Ellie couldn’t be bothered to set her mind at rest about what she was apparently imagining.

‘If that’s the case, love, you’d best stay ’ere tonight. Don’t ’ave any bed ter put yer in, though.’

‘Anywhere will do.’ Ellie sipped her tea. It was strong enough to take the skin off her palate and not all that sweet, with only a small spoonful of condensed milk mixed into it, but it helped warm her. ‘I don’t mind even sleeping on the floor.’

‘Good Lawd, no! There’s the couch, such as it is. It’s soft anyway.’

Fortunately the Sharp family went to bed early, Mr Sharp, if he was home, not having been bothered to get out of his when she’d called.

With the house fallen quiet by ten o’clock, Ellie lay awake on the sagging couch that her host had termed soft but was actually lumpy, with springs breaking through the stuffing.

The house had a peculiar smell to it, one she had almost forgotten – of stale cooking and clothes in need of washing. She thought of the clean smells of the Lowes’ house, of furniture and floor polish and good fresh air.

Ellie wriggled to find a more comfortable place on the couch and thought of the soft bed in that lovely quiet room Bertram had given her – his own daughter’s room. Part of her yearned to be back there, until she thought of her father, the old hatred rising up afresh in her. She knew she’d sacrifice it all just to find him. If only Michael were with her.

There was no sleep in her. Not only was her mind filled with the way Michael had let her down; her hope of seeing Ronnie Sharp, of pouring out her heart to him, had also been thwarted.

‘Is Ronnie about?’ she had asked as she ate the cheese sandwich Mrs Sharp had offered her, the slices like doorsteps, the cheese – just parings – helped for taste by a generous dollop of yellow pickle.

‘Ronnie?’ had come the response. ‘Oh, he’s out, as usual. He won’t disturb yer coming ’ome. He’ll come through the back door into the kitchen when he does come. Yer know what it’s like when people are courtin’.’

‘Courting?’

‘Didn’t yer know? Been engaged since July. Nice gel she is. I expect they’ll get married about eighteen months’ time, soon as they’ve saved up enough for a place ter live. Probably round ’ere, I expect.’

Engaged! At the back of her mind, despite this terrible sense of despair over Michael, there’d been the faint hope that Ronnie Sharp might be there to show a little sympathy, even understanding, when told of what she’d been through. Not that she expected to fall into his open arms. After all, they’d never been remotely serious. Now, of course, his mind would be otherwise occupied, with no cause to concern himself with her. Anyway, if he’d been free, he’d never have taken the place of Michael…

Quickly she turned from that thought before it began to dominate her mind and prevent her sleeping. Burying her face in the cushion that served for a pillow, she closed her eyes tightly in an effort to think of something else, trying to conjure up some neutral vision of blue sky and green grass and trees – anything so as not to think of him, of how she’d been let down so abruptly without any heartfelt regret, it seemed, despite the words of love he’d written for someone else to deliver.

The scenes she tried to envisage behind her tightly closed eyelids were not working. Instead her brain began to play on how Bertram Lowe would react when he found her gone. That at least helped push away the thoughts that threatened to break her heart each time Michael’s name stole into her head.

Twenty

Bertram closed