Delia felt totally miserable. Was that true? Could she risk losing Jenny’s friendship if she confessed when they had just found each other again? Jenny would be torn in two, unlike Arthur who could simply walk away. But then, would he? He was very fond of Jack; often called him my boy when they met.
‘Arthur is a gentleman,’ she said. ‘A real gentleman, I mean. He’s different from anyone else I know. I think he’s been brought up by a different set of rules. In fact I doubt if his parents even know that he appears on the stage. He certainly doesn’t do it for the money, but for the pleasure of telling a tale.’
‘He sounds fascinating,’ Jenny said and took a proffered menu from a young maid. ‘I’d like to meet him one day.’
They chose food from the menu, Delia selecting something light and not too expensive, which Jenny noted but didn’t remark upon. Instead she said, ‘I was going to tell you about my visit home.’
Delia held her breath. What was she about to hear? Is my boy still there? Because if he isn’t, if they’ve sent him on somewhere else, then I must go and look for him.
‘What?’ Jenny said. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, yes, perfectly,’ Delia mumbled.
Jenny gave a slight frown, and then went on. ‘It was the usual frenzy, but the good news is that Jack and Susan are moving out. Do you remember Barney Foggit? Well, he died and his wife has gone’ – she waved her hand vaguely – ‘to a daughter’s, I think, and Jack applied for the house.’
‘Oh, I do remember them. The farm was between your house and ours.’
‘They’re moving after Christmas,’ Jenny went on. ‘Susan lost the child she was expecting, unfortunately, and now they’re all busy getting the house ready, painting it and sorting out furniture and so on, but listen to this. They’re taking three girls with them, but leaving Molly with my ma and da. She’s a special child, shall we say. She needs more attention and kindness than I think Susan has to offer. Ma’s asked the headmaster of the Thorngumbald school if he’ll allow her to go for a couple of days a week and he said that he would.’ She pondered for a moment before saying, ‘I think he might be obliged to, when I think about it.
‘But here’s the other thing,’ she went on. ‘There’s a young boy living with my ma and da. He’s about Louisa’s age, and he just turned up after the hirings; he came home in the wagon with the other children and, well, you know my ma – she told him he could stay until his mother came looking for him. He’s an absolute charmer, entertains the girls, and Molly says he’s teaching her to read. He does the White Rabbit in a funny voice and the girls fall about laughing.’
She paused. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Delia?’ she said, leaning towards her. ‘You’re looking very flushed!’
‘Yes!’ Delia said in a strangled voice. ‘I’m fine. The – the punch has gone to my head.’
‘Anyway, Ma has informed the police; Da said they had to in case they were accused of abducting him or something,’ Jenny went on. ‘But it’s what, over a month, and there’s no sign of his mother.’
‘What’s his name?’ Delia managed.
‘Robin Jackson.’ When Jenny saw the expression on Delia’s face, a fusion of misery, relief and overpowering emotion, she realized for the first time that her friend had been playing a part ever since they had met again. The calm face and behaviour had been merely a mask; this was the real Delia, a woman in distress.
‘Delia,’ she said softly. ‘What is it?’
‘Help me, Jenny.’ Delia began to weep. ‘I’m drowning!’
And then everything fell into place. ‘My God,’ Jenny whispered. ‘He’s yours, isn’t he? Robin is your child!’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mr Gosling came to say their table was ready and looked enquiringly at Jenny; she gave a gentle shake of her head and mouthed Five minutes. He brought a pot of coffee which they hadn’t asked for, but were thankful to drink.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Jenny whispered. ‘I think you should.’
Delia nodded; her hand trembled as she picked up the coffee cup. ‘In a minute,’ she said. ‘When I think of the best way to explain.’
Jenny waited. What a plight to be in, she thought. This must be why her parents won’t talk to her, and the reason for throwing her out all those years ago. How could they? Their only daughter! She must only have been seventeen when – when … How did she keep it secret from me? And who was the reprobate who violated her, for I’m quite sure that she was innocent. We both were. Neither of us knew any boys to talk to, apart from the ones who’d been at school, and there was never one of them with anything but farming or fishing on his mind. Both girls had left the school when they were thirteen, Delia to help her mother at home and Jenny to a day school in Hull, travelling back and forth on the train every day.
‘I couldn’t … I can’t go on,’ Delia began at last. ‘We have no permanent home; we move from one set of lodgings to another, living from hand to mouth on the pittance I earn. Being in the theatre isn’t the glamorous life that you might imagine, and although I managed when he was a baby and he was always a good child and someone would keep an eye on him whilst I was on stage …’ It was as if the floodgates had opened and her words poured out without stopping. ‘But now that he’s older he needs to go to school and although he’s been whenever I’ve had a long run he can’t settle because he knows that we’ll soon be
