Chapter 8
By the time winter closed in, Ronnie and Sarah were seeing each other almost every Sunday and, as the weather got colder, they spent most of that time huddled indoors.
One afternoon, when Anthony was asleep, they settled down either side of the fire.
Sarah put the kettle on. She went over to the window, paused for a while looking up and down the street, and then pulled the curtains against the gathering darkness.
She stoked up the fire and brought their tray of tea from the kitchen.
They shared the tea and talked freely to one another about their childhood dreams and wishes.
‘Tell me a little more about when you were little. It must have been lovely growing up in the country. Being born in a Welsh mining village meant the land was carved up around us. We played on the slag heaps and Ma was always complaining that the washing was covered in smuts. So, you were in Micklewell until you were how old?’ Sarah asked.
‘We left when we were six, Tilly and I.’
‘Do you miss the village?’ Sarah asked.
‘I miss my family, but Tilly and I do go back frequently. What I remember most about my childhood is that I loved going to the forge, with my grandad,’ Ronnie said.
‘Sometimes he would let me operate the bellows. I was captivated by the way, with a few deft blows, he could shape a horseshoe to exactly the right size. I thought that one day I would like to be a blacksmith, but, as I grew older, I had ambitions to become an airline pilot. I would dearly love to fly a plane. Wouldn’t you?
All that freedom up there in the clouds.
However, my aunt and my guardian thought I should be a bit more realistic. ’
‘So, was it their idea that you should be an apprentice at Saunders-Roe, then?’ Sarah asked.
‘I suppose it was, but I was always interested in taking things apart and putting them back together. Finding out how things worked. Engineering seemed to satisfy my love of machinery. As soon as I started there, I realised that it was made for me,’ Ronnie said.
‘I wish I had shown such promise at school, but being a girl I was expected to contribute to the family home as soon as I was old enough. My father worked down the pits and was away long hours. My ma was not a well woman and I took over a lot of the housekeeping duties,’ Sarah explained.
‘I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Ma had a difficult time giving birth to me and they told her she shouldn’t have any more children. It was too dangerous for her.’
‘That must have been hard,’ Ronnie said.
‘It was, but at least now I have moved Anthony away from the pits. He will never have to go down underground. It’s a hard life and a dangerous job.’
Sarah’s expression changed and Ronnie could see something had troubled her about that thought. She turned the topic of conversation back to Ronnie.
‘So, have you given up all ideas of being a pilot, then?’ she asked.
‘Well, you never know,’ Ronnie replied.
Sarah smiled. ‘I admire your steadfastness, but how could that happen to a boy from a small village in the Hampshire countryside?’
‘Well, I’ve moved a bit closer to it happening,’ Ronnie replied. ‘Working in a place where they make seaplanes is the next best thing, isn’t it?’
They finished their tea, talking all the while about their childhoods until it was time for Ronnie to leave.
They went through to the kitchen to wash the dishes.
As Sarah reached to put the last cup on the top shelf of the cupboard, she wobbled and the cup slipped from her fingers.
Ronnie reacted very quickly and caught it.
As he reached across her to place it on the shelf, their bodies touched and his face brushed hers.
He inhaled the delicate smell of her face powder and found himself not wanting to move away from her.
He kissed her gently on the lips and then immediately felt embarrassed.
He had taken advantage of the situation.
Perhaps he had offended her? He stepped back and started to say, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . .’
She placed a finger gently over his mouth and said, ‘Ssh!’ She then took her finger away and kissed him back.
Not a brief peck on the cheek, but a long and lingering kiss that surged through his whole being.
Their arms folded naturally around each other.
He could feel his body responding and there was nothing he could do about it.
He held her tight and felt her warm breath on his neck.
He wanted her to stay close to him, not to move away. It felt right.
They stood, folded together for a long time, her head resting on his shoulder. Eventually, Ronnie moved. ‘Well, I suppose I should go,’ he said. ‘It’s getting late.’
‘Please, don’t go yet,’ Sarah replied. ‘Stay just a little longer.’
They shared one more kiss and moved back to the fireside, and had both just sat down when there was a banging on the door. Ronnie was startled and thought the banging to be so insistent that something must be wrong.
‘Who can that be, banging so urgently?’ he asked.
Sarah froze. She tried to hold back the fear she felt inside.
She knew who it was. It could only be one person.
What would Ronnie think? Her husband could be a violent man.
She didn’t want Ronnie to get involved in this.
She mustn’t let the two of them meet. Her hands were shaking.
She held them firmly in her lap so that Ronnie wouldn’t notice.
‘Ssh. Don’t say anything. Ignore it. Probably the drunk who lives next door.
He often comes in this building, mistaking it for his own, when he’s been drinking.
He thinks he’s at his own place, and yells and bangs until someone comes out of their room and puts him right,’ Sarah replied.
‘He’ll get fed up in a minute and drag himself off. ’
But the banging didn’t stop. Then the intruder started shouting.
‘Open the door, Sarah,’ he cried. ‘I know you’re in there.’
‘Who is that?’ Ronnie asked. ‘He knows your name. Let me go and tell him to leave. If he sees you’ve got someone here to protect you, then he might go away.’
‘Not without a fight he won’t. He’s that sort of man, believe me. He can be violent. He’s my husband, David Jones. He’s found me,’ Sarah said.
‘You should have told me that he’s been troubling you before, Sarah. You shouldn’t have to put up with this,’ Ronnie continued. ‘Have none of the other residents reported him?’
‘Open the door, Sarah, or I’ll kick it in,’ the man threatened.
‘He’s not leaving. I’m going to tell him to go or I’ll fetch the police.’
Ronnie stood up and turned to go to the door. Sarah grabbed his arm.
‘Please, don’t open it,’ she begged.
At that moment, another voice was heard. It was the old woman across the corridor.
‘She doesn’t want to see you. When are you going to get the message? If you don’t leave now, I’m going to get John Hastings from upstairs. You know what he’ll do — he’ll kick your sorry arse and throw you in the gutter where you belong.’
‘Mind your own business, you nosey old bitch,’ the man replied.
‘Don’t you talk to me like that,’ the old woman said.
Ronnie then heard a scuffling sound and a thud.
That was it! He wasn’t going to stand by and let this go on.
He ignored Sarah’s request, opened the door and stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind him.
The old woman was lying on the floor and the intruder was standing over her.
The man turned when he heard Ronnie approaching and the two men locked eyes.
‘I think you’d better leave,’ Ronnie said, standing his ground and hoping this wasn’t going to turn nasty.
‘I know she’s in there,’ the man shouted, spitting over his jacket. ‘You can’t get away from me, Sarah. I’ll be back.’
‘You’d better not be or I’ll be waiting for you,’ Ronnie snapped.
The man stepped towards Ronnie and let out a derisory laugh. ‘You and whose army?’ the man hissed. Ronnie stiffened, waiting for the blow that he thought might land on his chin. Much to Ronnie’s relief, the man turned to leave.
‘You’d better watch your back,’ the man threatened. ‘Cos if I find you here again, I’m going to leave you with more than just a bloody nose. You’ll rue the day you ever got in my way. She’s still my wife and that’s my son in there. A man can’t be kept from his own son.’
The front entrance door slammed behind him and Ronnie turned to ask if the old woman was all right.
‘I’ll just sit here for a bit,’ she gasped. ‘Heart’s going twenty to the dozen.’
Sarah cautiously opened the door to her room. ‘Has he gone?’ she whispered.
The two of them managed to get the old woman to her feet.
They stood either side of her, holding her up until she said, ‘I’m fine.
He’s just a bloody yellow belly, that man.
Hitting women is a coward’s way. I don’t know why you won’t involve the police, Sarah.
He needs putting behind bars, that one. That’s the only way you’ll keep him away from you and little Anthony.
You talk to her, mister. I’ve seen you come here a lot. Talk some sense into her, can’t you?’
Sarah didn’t respond to this outburst, but simply handed the old woman her stick and asked, ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right, Sylvia? Shall I come in and make you some hot tea? My friend will sit with Anthony, won’t you, Ronnie?’
‘I’m fine. You get back to your son and perhaps your friend can persuade you that this is no way to carry on. Report him, Sarah,’ the old woman said. She turned away and disappeared into her rooms. Ronnie heard her turn the key in the lock.
When they returned to Sarah’s rooms, Ronnie said, ‘Well, are you going to tell me what that this all about, Sarah? That man said he’s your husband. You’re keeping something from me. What is it?’
Sarah didn’t answer for a while, but stood looking lost as if her world had collapsed onto her.