Chapter Eleven
It was late October and Annie was so bored of her own company that one morning she decided to put Alfred on his lead and take a gentle stroll round to the shop.
It was doing so well now that she’d employed another woman, Mrs Jenkins, to help Susan, because she herself could no longer visit the warehouses to order stock since Monty had put his foot down again, and told her that she must rest until after the birth.
Although she knew he did it with the best of intentions she still sometimes felt stifled.
The weather had turned cold and the leaves were drifting down from the trees as she walked beneath them, Alfred frolicking joyfully at the side of her. She passed the church and was about to turn into Bridge Street when a figure ahead of her caught her attention and she gasped.
It looked like Alex.
Surely it couldn’t be him; she’d been so sure that she’d never see him again.
She blinked, thinking to dispel the image, but when she opened them again, she knew it was him, and she started to panic.
But it was too late to avoid him, he had seen her and his smile stretched from ear to ear as he quickened his steps and moved towards her.
He was just as handsome as she remembered and her heart began to beat faster as he drew abreast of her.
‘Annie, I’ve been looking for you. I was in the area so thought I’d call in, but when I got to the house in Swan Lane the maid told me you had moved some time ago.
She did tell me that you had your own shop in Bridge Street, though, so I was just on my way to find you. How are you? You look . . . beautiful.’
Annie gulped, her cheeks burning. She was wearing a warm cloche hat and a heavy cloak that disguised her swollen stomach.
‘I-I’m very well. And yourself?’
‘All the better for seeing you. And who’s this little chap, eh?’ He smiled as he bent to stroke Alfred who instantly started to lick his hand.
‘This is Alfred. I’ve had him for a while now.’
‘How lovely, and your own shop too. It’s wonderful to see you doing so well. Where are you living now?’
She took a deep breath before forcing herself to say, ‘I live with my husband. We bought a house in Attleborough Road.’
She watched the smile slide from his face to be replaced by a look of shock. ‘Y-your husband? I, er . . . didn’t know you’d got married.’
‘Yes . . . In March.’
‘I see . . .’ In that moment all his hopes and dreams turned to dust. He’d had so much he wanted to tell her, so much to hopefully look forward to, but it seemed he had come too late.
Annie was a married woman now and the last thing he would ever want to do was hurt her.
‘Then I hope you’ll both be very happy.’ They stared at each other for a long moment before he stepped back and said, ‘Well, at least I got to see you, but I won’t keep you standing here in the cold any longer.
I’ll head back to the station and get my train to London. It was nice to see you.’
‘You too.’
He paused to stare at her one last time. ‘Have a good life, Annie.’
She had the urge to throw herself into his arms and tell him that she still loved him and always would, but it wouldn’t be fair to Monty.
She had made her decision on the day he had asked her to marry him, and he deserved so much better than that.
Instead, she politely held her hand out to shake Alex’s.
The touch of him sent shivers up her spine.
‘Have a safe journey.’ Her voice came out as little more than a squeak as they looked at each other, then doffing his hat he nodded and left her standing on the pavement. She watched as he walked away, feeling bereft. What she failed to see, though, were the tears on Alex’s cheeks.
Once he was out of sight, she leant heavily back against a wall and tried to compose herself. After a while she turned towards home. She couldn’t face seeing anyone at that moment and needed to be alone with her thoughts for a while.
Once she was back, she dropped onto a chair and cried as if her heart would break, but after a time she sat up and straightened her back. Seeing Alex again so unexpectedly had affected her more than she cared to admit but her obligations were to Monty now and she would never forget it.
The baby was kicking and she screwed her eyes tight shut.
She wondered what Alex would have said if he’d found out she was carrying his child.
They were almost into November and Peggy had told her that first babies had a habit of coming two weeks early or late.
Annie prayed fervently that it would be late.
With a sigh she dragged herself up to the nursery where everything was ready for the new arrival.
Monty had worked so hard on it. The walls were painted in a pale lemon, and the cot was made up.
Pretty curtains hung at the windows and a large rug took up most of the floor space.
A chest of drawers was heaving with little matinee coats, nightdresses and nappies, and everything else a baby could need.
Monty had spared no expense. The guilt nearly overwhelmed her.
How could she tell him that she may well be carrying another man’s child?
As Peggy had pointed out, it could only hurt him so it was a case of the least said the better.
She was still standing there when she heard the back door open and shut, so going back downstairs she made for the kitchen to see Peggy there putting the kettle on.
‘Hello, pet.’ Peggy smiled a greeting. ‘I thought I’d come an’ see ’ow you are. The shops are quiet today so Eve is ’olding the fort while I pop round.’
Annie promptly burst into tears and Peggy rushed over to her.
‘Why, whatever’s the matter?’
‘I . . . just saw Alex,’ Annie told her in a shaky voice.
Peggy looked shocked. ‘Alex? But I thought ’e lived in London. What were ’e doin’ round ’ere?’
‘He said he was nearby so he went to Swan Lane to see me. The maid told him I had a shop in Bridge Street and he was on the way there to find me when we bumped into each other.’
Peggy looked concerned. ‘Did ’e say anythin’ about the baby?’
Annie shook her head as she swiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘N-no, I don’t think he noticed. I had my big cloak on.’
‘Phew, that’s a blessin’ at least. The last thing we want is him an’ Monty arguin’ over who the father is. Did yer tell ’im yer were married? An’ ’as ’e gone back to London now?’
When Annie nodded, Peggy wagged her finger at her.
‘Good, hopefully ’e won’t show his face round ’ere again.
But you’ve got to put ’im out o’ yer mind.
It’s no good to keep upsettin’ yerself over what might ’ave been.
He’s a married man an’ you’re a married woman now.
Come on, sit yerself down an’ I’ll make yer a nice cup o’ tea. ’
Annie did as she was told and by the time Peggy left, she felt a little better. It was time to try and put Alex out of her mind once and for all and concentrate on her husband and baby.
A couple of weeks later, Annie was woken with a bad backache. This was nothing new, it was usually backache or heartburn keeping her awake, but this time it seemed worse. Rather than wake Monty, she crept out of bed and went downstairs to make herself a cup of tea.
She was still there with Alfred when Monty came down early in the morning looking concerned as he knuckled the sleep from his eyes.
‘You didn’t have a good night then?’ He crossed to the teapot to pour himself a drink before he got ready for work.
‘Oh, just backache again. And don’t drink that. It will be stewed by now. I’ll make you a fresh one. And don’t look so worried. It’s perfectly normal at this stage.’
‘Perhaps I should stay off work today?’ he suggested.
She shook her head as she filled the kettle at the sink. ‘There’s no need. This little one keeps me awake kicking most nights now. I reckon when I lie down, they wake up.’
‘Hmm . . . Well, if you’re sure.’ He didn’t look convinced.
‘I’ve got another month of this to look forward to,’ she pointed out.
Monty nodded reluctantly, and went to get ready for work.
‘Now don’t forget, Mrs Bell next door has promised to come and fetch me if anything should happen,’ he told her as she saw him off at the door.
‘I know, you tell me every morning. Now get off with you or you’ll be late. I’ll see you this evening.’
He kissed her soundly and once he’d gone, Annie went back to Alfred in the kitchen.
Usually when she got up and started to walk about the aches and pains eased, but today the backache persisted and she started to worry.
It was almost forty weeks to the day since she had spent that magical night with Alex, which meant that if she went into labour now .
. . She pushed the thought away. No, it was just a normal backache, surely?
She had planned to go on a gentle stroll to see Susan and Peggy in the shops that morning but thought better of it and put her feet up instead.
Even so the backache persisted and, if anything, worsened, so she got up and began to pace.
The baby had become very still for a change and she cursed herself.
The day before she’d had a sudden burst of energy and had cleaned everything in sight, which was no doubt the reason she was suffering – she had overdone things.
Shortly after lunch the back door suddenly opened and Peggy appeared. She frowned at the sight of Annie leaning forward holding on to the edge of the sink.
‘I thought yer were poppin’ round to see us today an’ when yer didn’t turn up I thought I’d best come an’ check you’re all right.’
‘It’s just . . . this backache,’ Annie panted. ‘It seems to be getting worse instead of better.’ The words had barely left her lips when she gasped with horror as she felt something warm trickle down her legs and puddle on the floor.
‘Looks like I came in the nick o’ time,’ Peggy said, taking off her coat and crossing to Annie. ‘That ain’t just backache, pet. You’re in labour an’ yer waters have just broke. Come on, let’s get you onto this chair.’